On From Here
by InDreamsMayCome
Summary: AUfuture. It's been two years since Lorelai slept with Chris and left Stars Hallow. Luke stayed, like always. Now he goes on.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gilmore Girls.

When you think about it love is a really bizarre phenomenon. It shouldn't occur actually. Humans, by nature, look out for themselves. In a true 'survival of the fittest' manner they don't expend time and energy on things that won't prove beneficial in the race to take more breaths than the guy driving next to you on the freeway. It sounds utterly pessimistic and cynical, and maybe it is, but these days he just saw it as realistic. Such was the basic drive of humanity. Hence, no one ever really wants to fall in love, it just happens—you're getting along just fine in life and then some whirlwind of a person bursts into your life and you just can't breathe right if they're not slobbering all over your toothbrush or taking up valuable space in your sock drawer. Forget bizarre—it was stupid, plain old unabashedly stupid.

He tossed the rag, the white one with the red stripes along the fraying bottom, back under the counter where he'd found it, shut off the lights, and began his commute home from work—up a flight of thirteen creaky wooden stairs. It made sense that his commute was practically non-existent. It made sense that the mail for his diner and his personal mail, not that he got much, could be picked up from the same mailbox. It made sense that those envelopes shared the only town name that any and all envelopes ever addressed to him had shared. It was all practical and it all made sense, because _he_ was practical, _he_ made sense.

Reaching the top of the stairs he opened the door and flipped on the light revealing his apartment exactly the same way as he had left it. He liked that. If he put something somewhere it would only make sense that it be in that same spot when he went to pick it up again. He kicked off his shoes, watched them skip across the wooden floor in the direction of his unmade single bed. He had bought a queen a few years ago, in what seemed like another life, and just over a year ago he had replaced it with another single—a sturdy, reliable, _sensible_ single.

Luke opened up the fridge and took out a beer. Popping open the top he leaned up against the counter and closed his eyes and he tilted his head back and brought the bottle to his lips. He breathed deeply as he felt the cool liquid flow down his throat. All too quickly he had finished it and his moment—a few minutes of head-clearing sanctuary, now a nightly tradition—was over. Luke sighed deeply and adjusted his baseball cap. For a brief second he let his fingertips absorb the feeling of the well-worn blue material, for a brief second he remembered…

"_Looks good on you." She smiled._

_"Good how?" He smirked, puffed out his chest a bit..._

He ripped his hands away, bringing them together in front of his chest, one tight fist grasping the other until his knuckles turned white. He could hear his heart pounding as his breathing grew sharp and heavy. His upper body leaned forward slightly from the waist, his forehead coming to rest on his fists while he ground his lower body further against the counter, refusing to let his knees grow weak, fighting the urge to crumble.

Then, like a gust of wind, it was gone as quickly as it had come. He cleared his throat, straightened himself up, wiped the sweat from his palms on the sides of his jeans, and took a deep breath. It was not sensible to look backwards, to remember the past. It had taken him some time but he had come to terms with that lesson. A year ago, such a moment would have brought a flood of uncontrollable emotions, memories. It would have left him lying on the floor in a ball for half the night, or resulted in smashing yet another set of plates, or brought on days of obsessively calling dead-end after heart wrenching dead-end in an attempt for anything, any piece of information. But that was before. He was done with that now, he couldn't do it anymore.

As he reached into the freezer and pulled out a TV dinner he heard himself mutter, "damn spit," and crack a smile. This too was part of his nightly tradition—the TV dinners and, when necessary, the phrase "damn spit." That's all it was to him now, those flashbacks, remembrances—they were spit. It had taken over a year but Luke realized he couldn't live in memories. It would kill him. It almost did. He didn't want to die, and, more importantly than that, people needed him—the town needed him. He did things, he was Mr. Fix-It, he served their food, he gave people a place to go on Thanksgiving, he made sure to keep Taylor in check—after all, if the people in white coats were going to come for the citizens of Stars Hallow it was going to be because _he_ called them, not because they all followed one of Taylor's crazy plans to the loony bin. April needed him. He was a _father_. That meant something. So he had forced himself to do what the great jazz musicians his father used to listen to did when they got too much spit clogging up their instruments, threatening to ruin their music—they found the spit valve. They opened the damn thing up and let it pour right out onto the floor and they kept playing, hardly missing a beat. That's what he did now, that's what he had to do. He couldn't have those memories anymore, they were no longer who he was, they were just spit. Damn spit.

He put the frozen tray in the microwave and opened another beer. He probably drank too much these days. No, not probably, he did, but it got him through. He heard the microwave beep and sat down at the table to eat. He stared at grease before him and knew that there had been a time he would have never considered putting such crap in his body. That time was gone now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gilmore Girls.

"Because I care about you! I care what happens to you!"

"But everything is fine! Nothing is going to change—I don't know what you're all worked up about!"

Luke sighed and set down the two plates of burgers and fries he had been carrying. He watched the young woman, a tourist he assumed, jump up from the table where she had been sitting and leave the dinner crying. Her assumedly boyfriend threw some money on the table and dashed after her. Luke motioned for Caesar to take the plates back to the kitchen as diner crowd gossipers began discussing couple's debate over the boyfriend's apparent choice to take a job transfer to some sort of inner city office. He moved toward the window to pick up the five dollar bill the man had left on their table to cover their coffee and couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the woman, head buried in her hands, climbing into the couple's blue Ford Focus as the man, clearly frustrated, held the door for her, shaking his head.

"_Because I spent a week of my life adjusting to the fact that you moved!" Her eyes threatened tears._

Luke cleared his throat, picked up the money, and took their coffee mugs back to the kitchen.

"_You think that everything is your business! Everything is about you! Well, here's a newsflash, some things are not about you!" His grip on the shovel tightened, his teeth ground together._

Luke took a deep breath. Closed his eyes, opened them. He walked back to the table with the same rag he had been using to wipe down the counter last night.

"_I do not have to tell you anything!" He was ranting. "And you do not have the right to make me feel guilty…_

Luke looked out the window again. He could still see the couple, sitting in their little car, unpractical little—no trunk space, still arguing.

"_Because I care!" She was angry with him—again._

"_Why!" Hell, he was angry right back._

"_Because I don't want you to move." She was softer now. Sincere._

_He couldn't help it, he had to ask, he had to know, "Why?"_

"Luke? Luke?"

"Huh?" Luke jerked his head up to find Babette staring over him.

"Are you alright there sugar? You look like…"

"Yeah," he interrupted, straightening himself up. "What are you talking about? I'm fine."

"Okay sugar but…" She stopped as she caught Morey's gaze. "Okay sugar," she reaffirmed, resting a hand on his forearm before she went back to join Morey at their table.

"Caesar!" Luke yelled leaving the rag on the table. "I'm taking my break!"

"Okay boss," Caesar answered softly knowing Luke, already out the door, hadn't been looking for an answer. He caught the gaze of diner regulars and shrugged slightly before turning back to work. It wasn't that he didn't know—he did, they all did. It was more of an acceptance shrug…acceptance and sympathy.

Luke walked across the street with his hands shoved deep in his jean pockets. They needed to be washed—the jeans, not his hands. Well maybe his hands too but…aw, it didn't matter much anyway. Sometimes, the more you tried to wash something, make it clean again, the more you found remnants that just refused to disappear.

He climbed the steps to the gazebo and sat down on the bench, gazing out at the town square. Normally he liked going down by the lake to think, but for some time now he'd been halting his trek for peace at the gazebo. He told himself it made more sense—he couldn't afford to be away too long, he shouldn't go too far from the diner—even on his break, they might need him.

That's what he told himself. That's what he told anyone who asked, but yet anyone who knew him heard a different answer. They heard it in the strain of his voice, like he was trying to force the words to cover up any lingering doubts. They heard it in the way his eyes shifted, refusing to focus on anything, refusing to let anything focus on him. Mostly though, they heard it in the silent way he would sit, looking out on the routines going on around him that never varied, never faltered. Days in Stars Hallow really did function like clockwork and perched up in his usual spot Luke took on the air of time keeper—overseeing, keeping things functioning, running, but very much removed from the life before him.

Miss Patty smiled at him from the doorway of her dance studio and as he nodded back she pushed the door open just a bit wider, allowing him a clearer view of her third and fourth grade ballet class. Tom motioned to his fellow t-shirt wearing, construction helmet clad crew and even though they'd sat down under the large oak, opening up homemade lunches not ten minutes ago, they got to their feet without a complaint and resumed their instillation of some sort of funhouse for the upcoming festival to raise money for the repainting of all the town crosswalks—again. Taylor sent his bag-boys outside with some crates of apples to stock Doosie's outdoor display with. A group of middle school boys began a pickup game of soccer on the square—Kirk watched from the sidelines. He had been picked last and given the position of permanent sub, just like always. Somehow he had yet to grasp the meaning behind that title. He announced today's game as well, extra loud, after seeing Luke roll his eyes in acknowledgment to his frantic waves.

And so it went, Stars Hallow life as always. However, ever since Luke started talking his walks to the gazebo bench, ever since the townspeople started hearing his reasons why, well, there was that extra push, that extra step taken to let him see their everydayness—to let him see _them_. Because under Luke's claims of diner responsibilities and practicality they heard something else entirely. They heard fear, his fear that they, the quirky odd balls he claimed to want committed, would change, would become something else without him noticing, without him being aware. And then, because he'd missed the changes it would sneak up on him one day and they, from annoying Kirk to impossible Taylor, might leave—leave their routines, leave Stars Hallow, leave him. And they were all he had left.

Though they would never bring such statements up in his presence, indeed wouldn't even discuss it amongst themselves, they all knew this to be true. So without a secret town meeting, without an official vote, without any phone calls from Miss Patty or Babette, Stars Hallow did their best to let him see them, let him know they were who they had always been, let him know they weren't going anywhere.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gilmore Girls.

Luke was watching Taylor scold the Fitzpatrick boy for kicking the soccer ball too near his storefront when he was distracted by yelling coming from the direction of the diner. He uncrossed his arms and turned, the bemused look slipping off his face.

He scoffed. There was the little boy in the red racecar t-shirt, whom he had served grilled cheese to not a half hour before, running through the street, into the square, yelling like he was auditioning for _Braveheart II_. Forget just yelling, the kid wasn't even making sense—"don kel ali musoup!"—for example. What the hell was that supposed to mean? And it wasn't just the words—he had a sword for God's sake! It was grey plastic with a red handle, and he was waving, swinging, and stabbing every which way as he ran.

"It's called pretending."

"Huh?" Luke turned toward the direction of the voice.

"Pretending," the young woman repeated, climbing the gazebo steps. "It's fun."

Luke looked at the blonde haired woman blankly. She had been with the boy in the diner…Caesar salad, iced tea, no ice, which had stuck him as very ironic.

"You looked like you'd never seen it before." She scrunched up her nose and arched her eyebrows in imitation.

"I've seen it before," he said simply.

She shrugged and sat down beside him on the bench, her gaze on the boy that couldn't have been more than five or six years old.

They both watched silently for a few moments before Luke spoke. "He's stabbing the air."

She titled her head to face him. "I thought you said you've seen it before," she retorted with a smile.

"But there's nothing there!" Luke gestured sharply at the boy with his right hand, while keeping his left planted firmly on the bench, guarding what was left of "his" space. "There's nothing there to even pretend it's something else! And listen to him screaming—those aren't even real words!"

"They are to him," the blonde replied softly, calmly, still smiling.

"But it doesn't make sense!"

"Sure it does."

"It does?"

She nodded.

"So what's he saying then?"

"No idea," she laughed.

Luke looked at her incredulously. "Then _clearly_ it doesn't make sense!"

She laughed harder, like Luke was some sort of stand up comedian. She struggled to repress her giggles as she saw his frustration with her building. "Oh," she said, "what is sense anyway?"

Luke looked at her, waiting, and then realized it wasn't a rhetorical question. "Seriously?" he asked her.

She nodded, still smiling that same goofy smile. Luke wondered if her face was stuck like that or something.

He sighed. "Well, it's…it's when things have answers. You don't know what he's saying, what he's stabbing at, why he keeps running in circles for cryin out loud—therefore it makes no sense!" He gave a sharp nod and leaned back, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, proud of his answer.

"Fun."

"Huh?"

"That's the answer—fun. He's having fun."

"But…"

She cut him off. "Just because the answers aren't what you want doesn't mean they aren't there."

Luke felt his hands sink to his lap. "But…" he sighed, frustrated with this crazy lady. "I bet _he_ doesn't even know what half that gibberish means."

She shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Would it be so horrible if he didn't?"

"You can't live in a fantasy world," his voice was softer now, his eyes looking far off. "Or else you miss stuff, important stuff…"

"Were you always like this?" she cut in, giggling again.

Luke rolled his eyes. "Like what?"

"Pessimistic, grouchy…"

"Not pessimistic—realistic."

"Pssh," she waved her hand at him. "That battle's awfully realistic to him," she nodded in the direction of the boy. "Try again buddy."

Luke just shrugged. "Things change," he said softly, then even softer, "people change."

"No," she replied rising from the bench and moving so she stood in front of him, "people don't _change_. They grow up, they grow less naive, they make choices, they try out different paths, but they don't _change_. They grow—they just _grow_."

Luke shook his head and shifted his gaze downwards. One of his shoes had come untied.

"Your best subject was math wasn't it?"

Luke looked back up at her like she's grown a second head.

"In school," she clarified.

"Um, no," he answered slowly still trying to get a hold of the conversation again. "I hated math. I almost failed Calculus. I liked English and History actually."

"Hmm." The woman frowned for the first time since she entered the gazebo.

"Why?"

"Those are very different," she replied, her tone serious as she ignored his question.

Luke wondered what he could have possibly said to make her grow so somber. His only conclusion was that she was nuttier than he had thought. "They're just subjects in school, and school," he replied, "was a very long time ago."

"It's who you are, Luke," she said gravely, "you can't forget who you are, otherwise," she shrugged and stared off briefly before turning back to him, "you won't really be alive anymore, even if you still exist."

"Wha— but…" Luke's mind was still fumbling with questions after her last statement as she turned and walked down the gazebo steps. Finally, he settled on "how'd you know my name?"

She turned back to face him, now holding the little boy's hand. "It's your place isn't it?" She nodded at the "Luke's" sign.

"Oh," Luke said, more to himself than her, then, more loudly, "yeah, it is."

"Good," she laughed, "because we didn't have enough money to tip you anyway!"

_"Oh, please you were a solid 15 percenter, less if the bill got higher, way less if you were mad at me!"_

_She feigned shock._

"_It doesn't matter…I'm the proprietor. You don't tip the proprietor."_

_"What!" Her eyes grew wide and he couldn't help but grin…_

The boy giggled and skipped along besides the woman, still waving that stupid sword around. "It was really good though!" she called over her shoulder and with that the pair rounded the corner and disappeared down the street.

Luke sighed and let his head tilt all the way back to his shoulder blades. He stared at the wooden beams that formed the roof of the gazebo. "Damn spit," he muttered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gilmore Girls.

Luke glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand and back up at the modest grey house in front of him. 802. This was it. He turned off the ignition of his truck and pulled out the keys, chewing absentmindedly on his bottom lip. What the hell was he doing here? Wasn't this like going back, looking to the past? Did this make any _sense_? He heard himself let out a grunt as he hit the top of the steering wheel sharply with his palm. He knew why he was here.

After that crazy blonde woman had left he hadn't been able to get her out of his head. Her or that crazy, straight-jacket deserving little boy. Everything she had babbled had been playing over in his head for days and he couldn't go to sleep with out seeing that look in her eyes, eyes withblue so amazingly bright it was second only to one other, that he knew of anyway. _"It's who you are Luke, you can't forget who you are…"_ played over and over like a broken record in his head. Then, two days ago she had stopped in the diner again asking for a cup of coffee—to go. His mad, angry, ranting side had come out, he couldn't help it, she'd been practically haunting him!

"What, are you like a freakin psychologist or something?" he had demanded, both hands planted on the counter directly across from where she sat perched on a stool.

"Pardon?" she asked, smiling like it was the only thing she knew how to do.

"All that mumble jumble you were givin me—is that your job? Are you a shrink?"

She giggled wildly. "Yup," she said.

He took a step back, though not releasing the counter top from his grasp, and rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh of exasperation. Figures.

"And then some," she added her grin, if possible, getting wider.

"What?" Luke's eyes had returned to hers.

"I'm a teacher Luke—in Seattle actually. I was in Hartford for a weeklong conference. I brought my son, we went sight seeing, and ended up here. I'm actually on my way to the airport to head back west right now."

He shook his head, confused.

"In my line of work Luke, if you're good at what you do anyways, you don't just _teach_, you mentor. Being young is never as easy as it seems." She laughed. "Being any age is never as easy as it seems. Over the years I've learned how to read people, learned a few things about life. I don't have a degree in psychology if that's what you're asking, just a lot of practice in it." She took the coffee cup Lane had filled for her and put some money down on the table. "It wouldn't hurt you to think about what I said…"

Luke rolled his eyes.

"And if you've already been doing that," she continued knowingly, "take some action on it, huh?" She leaned closer to him so the whole eavesdropping diner wouldn't hear, "I think you need to remember who you are, Luke, what's important to you, what you want out of life, before it's too late." She placed her hand lightly on top of his and smiled, not a crazy smile, but a genuine, blue eyes shining, sincere smile. Then she turned and walked away.

Luke looked down at the ten dollar bill in front of him. "Hey!" he called after her. "Hey! This is too much! You forgot your change!"

She had already opened the door when she turned to face him. "Just a tip," she said simply.

That night Luke had paced around his apartment for hours on end trying to figure out what she meant by acting on it, trying to figure out who he was, trying to figure out what he wanted, all the while scolding himself about how none of this made sense and he should just call it a night and go to bed. One phone call and thirty hours later, he was here, parked on the side of Elm Street in Winsberry, about a half hour East of Stars Hallow.

If she hadn't told him she was a teacher he had no doubt he would have never thought of this. In fact he still couldn't believe he was going through with this, but it was the only thing he could think of to put his mind at ease. He figured if he did this one little nonsensical thing then that crazy blonde lady and her goofy son would get out of his head and his life could get back to normal.

He shook his head and exited the truck before he had time to rethink anything. Moments later he was knocking, albeit a little hesitantly, on the wooden door's faded white paint. After three knocks he waited, shifting his wait from one foot to the other and tugging on the sleeves of his long sleeve, non-flannel, shirt. He had left the hat in the truck. He wasn't sure why and he was tempted to go back and get it, or better yet go back all together, when the door burst open. Luke looked up to find a grey haired woman smiling at him.

"You must be Lucas," she said opening the screen door for him.

"Yes ma'am," he answered.

"Ma'am," she laughed, "what are you doing calling me that? You make me feel old. Come on in here."

He complied and was soon wrapped in a warm hug, which he returned rather awkwardly. If she noticed his nervousness, which she probably did, she didn't comment on it. Instead she motioned for him to shut the door and follow her in as she shuffled into the kitchen calling, "Harry! Harry, Lucas is here!"

"He's coming dear, we all move a little slower these days. Would you like a cup of coffee or something?"

_She looks upfrom the steaming mug smiling widely. "Aw, you remembered."_

_He doesn't want to smile, he doesn't want to give her coffee, and damn it he can't help either one. "A few things about you stick."_

Luke cleared his throat. "Um, ah, tea? Do you have any tea? Ah, if not water? Water's fine too. I, ah…"

She gave him a concerned smile. "Tea's not a problem, dear. Why don't you go have a seat in Harry's study, it's just down that hallway to the right, I'll bring the tea in when it's ready."

He nodded his thanks and followed her directions down a wallpapered hallway covered in blue and white flowers until he found the study. Looking around him he felt two very conflicting emotions: one was a safety he hadn't felt in years, the other was an overwhelming desire to bolt. Both were bought about by the same reason: walking intothe office was like stepping through the doorway to the past, his past. In this room, Luke observed, time had clearly stood still.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gilmore Girls.

Luke looked around him, taking in the cluttered room. In the middle was a large wooden desk with two chairs opposite it. There was a stack of scattered papers along with a few open books sitting on top of it along with an assortment of pens, pencils, and markers. The walls were lined with metal filing cabinets and wooden, hand-crafted bookshelves, all overflowing. Every inch of space in the room, excepting only the ceiling and a few non-obstructed spots of beige carpeting, was covered in pictures, ribbons, cards, drawings, certificates, awards, trophies, and the like. Luke knew and recognized every single one.

"Well will ya look what the devil dragged in!"

Luke turned toward the doorway and saw the source of the voice. He couldn't help but crack a small smile. Despite having shrunk several inches over the years, balding considerably, and requiring the use of a cane, Luke couldn't help but think the old man hadn't changed a bit. "Hey Mr. Bolton," he said simply, sticking out his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the great Butch Danes wants to shake my hand!" the old man announced gleefully. "Come here," he said entering the room and wrapping Luke in a bear hug. Luke returned the hug and although it was still a little awkward he noted it was much improved from his earlier attempt with Mrs. Bolton. The old man clapped Luke on the back and pulled himself away. "Lucas, how the heck are ya?"

Luke chuckled. "Mr. Bolton, in the span of about two minutes you've called me the two names I thought I finally managed to get people to forget about."

"Well then _Lucas_," he laughed as he made his way to the chair behind the desk, resting the cane against a nearby file cabinet, "you've come to the wrong place, an elephant never forgets!" He thumped his chest for effect. "Besides you're practically a geezer yourself and yet, there you are, continuing that 'Mr. Bolton' crap. I told you after graduation you could call me Harry."

"I know, I know," Luke smiled. Changing the subject he looked around the office again as he sat down in a chair and said, "Mr. B you haven't changed a thing. This looks exactly the same as it did when I was in high school."

"Yes," the old man affirmed following Luke's gaze around the crowded walls, "yes it does. Why change it? I like to remember what makes me tick." He gave Luke a wink and looked toward the door as his wife brought in tea for Luke and coffee for himself. "Thank you Martha, dear," he said grasping the cup and saucer. Luke nodded his thanks and took his as well.

"Well, _Lucas_," Mr. Bolton continued after his wife had exited the room, "I have to say I did expect you sooner."

Luke shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I know, Mr. B, I'm sorry it's been so long. I've had a lot going on and, while I know there's not good excuse for letting years go by without staying in touch but…"

"You're right about that, son, but I'm not asking you where you've been since high school graduation."

Luke stared at him not sure of what to say.

Mr. Bolton continued. "I'm still friends with Buddy, Luke, he told me about you and Lorelai."

Luke felt a shudder run through him. Mr. B had never been one to beat around the bush but even so Luke was taken back by his forwardness. No one had spoken her name to him for a good year and a half now…hell, he hadn't even let himself think it. He heard her name play through his mind a few more times…_Lorelai._ It didn't sound real any more. _Lorelai._ It sounded like some sort of made up word. _Lorelai._ Maybe the name of some exotic flower. _Lorelai._ Or the name of a small town in some foreign country. _Lorelai._ Beautiful, but with a distinct air of mystery and distance.

Mr. B brought Luke back to reality by reaching across his desk. "Remember this?" he asked handing Luke a small black frame that had stood beside a picture of his family. Luke knew what was in the frame even before he flipped it over. It was a picture of him, a much younger, more naïve him, standing in a blue cap and gown with his high school diploma in one hand and his other arm tightly around a broad shouldered man with salt and pepper hair.

"When'd you get so old?" Luke joked.

"When did you lose that young man?" Mr. B retorted.

Luke sat back a little further in his chair. He hadn't been entirely sure of what he was expecting from Mr. Bolton when he had called him up after his conversation with the crazy teacher lady. Probably just to reminisce about his old glory days at Stars Hallow High when life had come easy to him and the whole world seemed to be waiting. If there was anyone who could recall those days, Mr. B would have been it. Serving as both Luke's varsity track coach and history teacher Mr. B had become somewhat of a second father to him. The fact that he was an old friend of Buddy's only made the two that much closer. Luke had never been much of an 'open book' so to speak, but Mr. B, well Mr. B, knew him inside and out. It was here in his office that Luke had admitted fears as well as dreams. Mr. Bolton knew exactly who he was and maybe that was all Luke had wanted—to sit down and have his old mentor tell him how great he could be, how much potential he had, how he would have liked a son just like him. Apparently though, this wasn't going to be so simple.

He tried to give a nonchalant laugh, "what you mean the hair? I know I'm thinning but…"

Mr. Bolton set the picture down facing Luke and leaned back in his chair. "No," he said, "I don't mean your hair. Lucas, you're dancing, you're dancing like a damn ballerina. You're dancing right around my questions and right around your reasons for coming here."

Luke let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his hair. Across the desk his old teacher's eye held a slight twinkle—he was getting to him. "I don't know why I'm here Mr. B.," he finally let out while staring at the ceiling tiles. "It was an impulse thing. See, I was sitting in the town square a week or so ago, in the gazebo actually, and I see this goofy kid running around, screaming…"

Mr. Bolton leaned back in his chair, nodding slightly, letting Luke break out into full rant mood. This was good.

"…so really I don't get it. I mean she starts talking about needing to remember who I am…what the hell does that mean? Oh, and that bit in the gazebo, about school subjects I liked—what was _that_!" Luke sank back into his chair after having poured out his whole run-in with the crazy lady.

The room was silent for a moment as Mr. Bolton sat smiling across from Luke, staring off while rubbing his chin absentmindedly. Finally he turned to face his former student. "Luke you loved my class—too much possibly," he laughed. "You loved your English classes, I know because I had to hear about those too." This time Luke laughed. "I also had to hear about Mr. Johnson and how Calculus was so…let's see how would you have put it…retarded?" This time they both laughed. "Why? Why did you think that way Luke?"

"Um…well…" Luke wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. All students had subjects they liked and subjects they didn't. Right? What was the big deal?

"Luke I'm not asking you to be an adult here. I'm not asking which one is better or more useful. I didn't get a history degree until I received my masters, do you know what my bachelors degree was in? Mathematics. It's good stuff."

Luke nodded.

"But you didn't think so _then_. So why not?"

"Because…" he thought back through all those forgotten about years for a reason, "math was so 'this is the way it is.' I didn't like that. I didn't like memorizing formulas. My friend Paul loved it, you plug in the numbers to the right spot and out pops the right answer—THE right answer because there's only one and no matter where you are in the world, in time, that's the answer. Paul loved that. I didn't."

"Why?"

"I guess I just wanted to reason things out more, in a way that worked for me. I didn't understand x's and y's, I understood people and motives. You made history come alive in your class. I, we all, felt like we were a part of something bigger than ourselves. Same with English, I guess. Themes, motifs, characters in books, there was a message you know. It meant something, it was about something. It was life, it didn't follow a formula, there was no right answer, but a lot of possibilities. That was where I thrived."

"So you didn't like exact answers, didn't like things making too much sense?"

"I guess not," Luke responded. He felt a little stung by those words. Things were supposed to make sense. _He_ made sense. Didn't he? Hadn't that been his mantra of late?

"I don't know if crazy lady's quite so crazy Luke," Mr. B winked. "In a round-a-bout way I think she was trying to find out if you'd remained true to yourself or you'd lost yourself somewhere along the way." He motioned back to the picture. "Do you remember what you told me that day, Luke?"

Luke nodded recalling their conversation on the lawn outside of the school right before the picture had been snapped. "Sure, I was young, idealistic, clueless," he laughed. "I wanted to see the world back then. Heck, I wanted to change the world. I thought anything could be fixed. I was arguing 2+2 with you…"

"Yes, sir, you were damn sure you could make that little old equation add up to five."

"I don't know what was thinking with that one…" Luke found himself reddening a bit at the remembrance. It was actually pretty embarrassing. In what world doesn't two and two equal four?

"Sure you do."

Luke stared at him.

"Come on Luke. This," he dug out a sheet of scratch paper and sketched out '2+25' "will _never_ make sense. Okay? Can we agree on that? There are no numerals, x's or y's that will make that work correctly. But is it so wrong to want to believe it anyway?"

Luke thought back to his gazebo conversation when the woman asked him if it would be so horrible for the boy not to be able to define his made up words.

"This isn't about math Luke, it wasn't about math then either, it's about believing things that don't make sense. It's about knowing there's something worth defending, worth going after, even when you can't understand all the reasons behind it, you can't explain it. Sometimes things aren't meant to be explained."

Luke sat back in his chair and breathed deeply. He wasn't sure what to say to something like that.


	6. Chapter 6

Luke lay in his bed that night staring at the ceiling. He was angry. He actually felt angry. Anger was a strong emotion, and it had been a long time since Luke had let his emotions slide out of neutral. He couldn't help it tonight though; he had stopped fighting it some time ago. He was mad at everyone—the mentally unstable townspeople, that crazy lady and her freak of a son, hell, even Mr. Bolton—even though he knew he had no reason to be. They hadn't done anything but try to help him. Although maybe that was just it, maybe he didn't want to be helped.

He had spent the past two years hanging on, telling himself he had to for the people that needed him. Now people seemed to be acting like that wasn't good enough. Didn't they have any idea what he had been through these past two years? Couldn't they fathom what he went through every waking moment, every sleepless night? Every single morning Luke had to force his body out of that bed. Every morning he had to think of a reason to get up, to continue—every damn morning! Life wasn't just something he _did _anymore, it wasn't just something that happened, it was a _choice_, a purposeful decision with consequences abounding. Every single day he made the choice to walk past the medicine cabinet of pills, to walk past the razor blades he could hold so easily over his wrists, to drive his car from point A to point B without any detours to lakes, ditches, or brick walls, and there were a million more besides those. He faced them all and would continue to face them for as long as he kept his lungs breathing, and he had accepted this, accepted it for _them_. And now it seemed…well, for God's sake what did they want out of him!

They weren't the ones who had to live with the memories, the reminders, the _damn spit_. Everything he touched, everywhere he looked, every time he breathed, _she _was there. And to keep his sanity, to keep his _life_, he had to let go of all of it; he had to make it into nothing. His entire past, everything he had wanted his life to be, everything he had dreamed of being, every ounce of happiness he'd had, everything that had once made him feel _alive_ he had to turn into spit. He had to release it all as if it was nothing or else it would cripple him, it would slaughter whatever melody that still made up the life of Luke Danes. Hell, not even melody, anything beautiful had walked away from him two years ago…these days he was just a single note, probably a flat one, being played over and over.

His life had to be mathematical now, two plus two _had_ to equal four. Couldn't they see that? He couldn't go on any other way. This is who he was now. He didn't need to become some teenage boy all over again.

"_I'm different, I'm a loner."_

"_Oh no. No no. I don't want to hear about the romance of being a loner."  
"Some guys are just naturally loners."  
"Yes, lonely guys."  
"Independent guys."  
"Sad guys."  
"Maverick guys."  
"Lee Harvey Oswald."  
"John Muir."  
"The Unabomber."  
"Henry David Thoreau."  
"Every one of these sad and lonely guys." She smiled at him, knowing she'd won._

_He'd sighed, knowing he'd let her. Staring into those blue eyes he knew there was one way he'd never be sad, he'd never be lonely…_

He'd been wrong then. He'd gotten his way and he was still sad, still lonely. He wasn't a Maverick guy, he never had been. Who was he kidding?

Luke rolled over and looked at the clock—4:17. Great. He picked up the phone, dialed, and waited while it rang.

"Uh, hey Caesar….Yeah, it's Luke…Yeah, I know, sorry to wake you…Can you open this morning?…No everything's fine I'm just not feelin so great…Uh, yeah I think the flu or something…Okay, yeah I will…Uh-huh…Thanks Caesar."

Luke hung up the phone and rolled back over. It was gonna be a long night at this rate.

Luke's eyes snapped open at the sound of pounding. He sat up, taking in his surroundings, realizing he was in his apartment and the sun was out. How had that happened? He rubbed his neck and looked at the clock—7:30. The pounding continued. Looking around Luke realized someone was knocking on the door.

"What!" he barked, hoping they'd go away.

"Uh, Luke?"

"Crap," he muttered under his breath. It was Caesar. Luke got up and walked to the door, his hair a mess, his t-shirt and jeans the same ones he'd been wearing last night. He opened the door.

"Wow, you really are sick," Caesar commented before catching himself, "I mean not that I didn't believe you Luke, I did, it's just you're never sick, I mean…"

"Well, it happens," Luke cut him off. "What do you need Caesar?"

"Uh, oh, right! The new insurance card. You never signed one of the forms after we switched companies and someone just caught it I guess…I dunno, funny right cuz, like, we switched a long time ago, but the card has the number and well I looked everywhere but it's not downstairs and…"

Luke's mind wandered as Caesar rambled on. Insurance card…when had he switched insurance? His mind reeled backwards until it clicked. Two years ago. He had received the new insurance card two years ago. He had meant to put it in the vault but…Luke gulped. He knew exactly where that card was. "I know where it is Caesar," he said distractedly. "I'll take care of it." He started to shut the door but Caesar stopped him.

"I need it Luke, the guy's here now. He's downstairs. He says this has to be taken care of today." Caesar looked kind of worried, like he wasn't sure he wanted to press Luke but knew he had to.

Luke sighed. "Come back in ten minutes, Caesar." With that he shut the door.

_"No! I'm not waiting! I'm done waiting! It's now or never!" She looked on the verge of tears._

_"I don't like ultimatums!" He was angry, he was confused, he felt like he was being hit over the head with a sledge hammer._

_"Well I don't like Mondays but they come around eventually!"_

Luke stood in front of his dresser staring at the floorboards that ran beneath it. A little over two years ago the insurance man had handed him that card. He was going to put it in the vault when…when he was pulled outside, distracted. He hadn't wanted to lose the card…so he had stuck it in his wallet before following her outside.

_"We can't just run off and get married!" Someone had to talk some sense here. She certainly wasn't going to._

_"Why not Luke? Don't you love me?"_

_"Of course I love you!" God! How could she ask him that!_

_"But I love you Luke! I love you!"_

He took a deep breath and reached beneath the dresser. He pulled out the faded leather wallet, covered in dust bunnies and tossed it on the bed like he had pulled a spider out instead. For a long time he just stood there above it, staring it down. He hadn't opened that wallet in two years. Not since the day he'd found out what she'd done. Not since she told him she was leaving. She hadn't cried. She hadn't told him she was sorry. He had been too shocked to do anything. He'd been too angry to go after her. When he had finally tried, tried night and day for a year, it was too late. She'd disappeared.

Since then he just couldn't open that wallet because he knew _it_ was in there, stuck right behind the forty-seven dollars he thought he'd never see again—two twenty's, a five, and two one's. He'd called his credit card companies, his bank, told him he'd lost his cards. He was relatively sure they didn't believe him but they issued him new ones anyway. He'd gone to the DMV, he hated the DMV, and gotten a new license. He thought he had taken care of it all. He just couldn't bare seeing that slip of paper. He didn't see how he could see it and not remember…

_"I can't believe you kept this in your wallet." She was genuinely shocked. "You kept this in your wallet…you kept this in your wallet…"_

_"Eight years," he supplied for her._

_"Eight years," she repeated. And then she looked at him with those blue eyes. She looked at him the way she had looked at him every night in his dreams for eight years. She looked at him and he could only think that this, what he was doing here, with her, was crazy. It didn't make sense. And as he looked back at her he knew he just didn't care…_

When he had chucked that leather wallet across the room that night two years ago, that night when he knew she was gone for good, he thought he'd buried it, he thought he'd buried her. Now, he had no choice. He had to open it. He had to get the card. He had to brush the dust off his past.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls. A/N: Thanks for the reviews :) For all worried about Luke--give it time... the only way out of hard times is to just keep on keeping on ;) 

For the second time that morning Luke heard pounding on his door. He glanced at his watch—it had been sixteen minutes since he had told Caesar to come back in ten. If he had to bet, Luke would have said Caesar had been back up there in nine and had spent the last seven trying to work up the guts to face him again. Luke sighed and let his head fall back against the rumpled sheets. He as now sitting on the floor, back resting against the bed, hands limp in his lap, legs stretched out in front of him. The unopened wallet lay on the ground next to him. He had gone to open it, he really had, but he no sooner picked it up than it fell from his grasp onto the floor as if his hand had a mind of its own. He had sank down next to it, not yet able to muster the will power to go at it again.

The pounding continued. Luke sighed but didn't make an attempt to acknowledge it. Caesar knew he was here, sooner or later he'd get up the courage to just walk in. And he was right—not thirty seconds later Luke heard the door creek open.

"Hey, Caesar," he mumbled. But it was there he was wrong. As he heard the feminine voice reply, "hey," he knew it wasn't Caesar. The footsteps approached the bed where he sat and soon a pair of high heels were standing in front of him. Slowly, he looked up. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Passing through," was her reply. Then she scoffed. "Nice to see you too by the way."

He didn't say anything and she knelt down next to him, for the first time seeing the wallet. "It's not gonna bite, ya know."

He continued staring at the dresser in front of him. "I know."

"Hey," she grabbed his hand, "what's the matter big brother?"

He turned to look at her briefly before going back to staring straight ahead. "You pick the damnedest times to show up Liz, you know that?"

She smiled. "Keeps life interesting." There was a pause before she said, "Caesar sent me up to ask for the insurance card, Luke."

He nodded. He'd figured as much.

"It's in there?" she questioned, nodding at the wallet.

He nodded again, then swallowed hard.

Liz continued, piecing the situation together, "it's in there next to the horis—"

"Liz!" Luke cut her off sharply and she jerked back a bit, startled by the first time in their conversation that his voice had come out as any more than a whisper. "Just…don't say it,' his voice was soft again.

She looked at him and for the very first time in her whole life Liz realized her big brother looked very small. He reminded her very much of one of those big balloons from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. They're beautiful as they fly over the crowd and everyone looks up at them and oohs and ahhs and everything is perfect. But sooner or later the parade ends and the balloons end up in some warehouse somewhere to be stored away in the dark—and right before they are there's this moment when they're in the process of deflating where so much of the air is gone that they look almost laughable—all misshapen, shells of their former selves. And really, she thought, that must be the worst part. It's not so bad to be all folded up, tucked away—kind of peaceful really. But that middle state where they have just enough air left to remember who they once were, while being so far deflated that they can't even fathom again seeing such glory…well that surely must be the worst part.

After a long silence she stood up and looked down at her hero—her fallen hero. "Okay," she said softly.

He looked at her and watched as she picked up the wallet and wiped the dust off. He watched as she opened it and took out the insurance card and placed it in her back pocket. He watched as she took out the forty-seven dollars and placed it on the nightstand next to his new wallet. He let out a small sigh of relief. He opened his mouth to thank her but stopped as he watched her take a small, slightly yellowed piece of paper out. "Liz…" he said as she placed it on top of his dresser.

"Shh," she said to him. She placed the old wallet on top of it. "See, it's still hidden."

He shot her a look.

She sighed. "Look, Luke, you don't have to look at it today, you don't have to look at it tomorrow, but you do have to look at it." She paused. "Hopefully sooner rather than later."

She was about to say something else when she felt herself step on something. She looked down and picked up the blue scrunchie, turning it over in her hands.

Luke's stomach dropped when he saw what she was holding. He'd had no idea it was there. It must have been under the dresser this whole time—he'd probably knocked it out when he was reaching for the wallet. Silently he begged her to just put it back, not to ask…but, Liz being Liz, of course she did.

"Who's is it?"

He looked away from her, his ears reddening, his voice far away and barely audible, "Rachel's."

Liz looked at him, shocked. "When?"

He took at deep breath and thought. Finally he replied, "six months ago."

Rachel. Luke shook his head as he thought about her. She too picked the damnedest times to show up. It was about four months after he'd given up searching, about two months after he'd started opening the diner again—Caesar and Lane had been the ones keeping it going before that.

It had been Babette, strangely enough, who'd actually seen her first. Rachel was on a layover in Harford for the night and had decided to "swing by the Hallow," as she later put it. She'd gone to the diner looking for him and then his apartment—he wasn't in either. How she'd gotten out of there without talking to anyone Luke still didn't know. He'd been in Doosie's picking up some lettuce. She didn't look there though. Instead, she went to what, in her mind, was the only other logical place he could be.

Babette was out front with her gnomes when she saw Rachel walk up the lawn, stopping short when she saw the boards on the windows.

"My, my sugar," she had said running over, "we didn't expect to see you back here. Does Luke know you're here?"

"Uh, no. No, I was going to surprise him," she's stammered, not being able to tear her eyes from the house. "What…I mean…Did they move?"

Babette nodded slowly. "She did."

"She?" Rachel questioned. "But what about…"

"You should really go to the diner dear…"

"But I was just—"

"He'll be back. Luke never goes too far from that place these days."

"But what happened? I mean where is Lor—"

"She's gone sugar. She's just…" Babette sighed. "I don't know, nobody knows. God knows poor Luke tried to find her but, well, right now that girl just doesn't want to be found. He's been through hell, that poor guy. We just…we don't really talk about it. Even Taylor…" she trailed off again. "Luke and Taylor, they've had their differences, and that Taylor, he's a quirky one, but he loves Luke…we all do. And …and her, we love her too—always will. Taylor found some loophole somewhere that let him claim the house as historical property…someone's great-great-granddaughter twice removed walked across the lawn or something. I don't know, I don't think he knows, but this way Luke doesn't have to sell it, doesn't have to keep it up, and it's here in case…well," she said a little teary eyed, "just in case."

Rachel had nodded, trying to take it all in. "So, they were…?"

"They were engaged, sugar."

Later that day Rachel did find Luke at the diner. After he shook off the initial shock they had gone upstairs and talked and drank well into the night. They had talked about April, about the diner, about her travels, about a few of the guys she had dated since she left.

Luke remembered that night as the first night he'd smiled in well over a year. In fact, there were times he'd honestly thought he'd forgotten how. He remembered thinking he was glad she'd come.

Rachel had set down her beer and looked at him from across the table. "I saw Babette today," she finally said. "You weren't here so I figured that meant you could only be one other place."

He set his beer down as well and stared at the floor.

"She told me you were engaged."

He remained silent.

"Luke," she'd walked over to him, grabbed his hands in hers. "What happened? What happened with Lor—"

"Shh." He had placed his fingertips over her lips, silencing her. He lifted his head to look her in the eyes. "Please," he had begged, just barely above a whisper, "don't."

He honestly couldn't remember what had happened next. All he knew was he was drunk, he was depressed, and damnit he was lonely. The next thing he remembered was laying in bed with her on top of him in her red lace bar, her hands running over his bare chest, her mouth over his. He remembered her reaching for the button on his jeans and he remembered how much his body wanted it, how much he ached for it—so much it actually hurt. And then he remembered feeling something very strange. He tried to swallow and there was a lump in his throat the size of a golf ball—and he hated golf. God, he hated golf… It stuck him then that he was on the verge of tears. He, Luke Danes, wanted to cry.

He pulled Rachel away from him. "Rachel," he managed to choke out as she tried to fight against his arms, tried to lay kisses over his chest, "why are you doing this?" He couldn't hold her away any more and her mouth found his neck.

"Because," she said in between kisses, "I love you, Luke."

With that he had rolled her off of him, almost violently, stood up, and tugged his flannel back on, hoping she wouldn't notice how his arms were shaking. "You need to leave," he told her.

She'd sat there on the bed looking at him incredulously. "What? But Luke…"

He'd then picked up her shirt and threw it at her. "Get out!" He pointed to the door. "Get out now!"

She put her shirt on. "What the hell is your problem Luke!" she'd screamed at him. "I told you I loved you!"

With that she'd left, slamming the door behind her, never looking back.

"There's no such thing!" Luke had screamed at the now empty room. "I don't believe in it! I don't believe in that crap any more!"

No sooner had he gotten the words out then he found himself in the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet, throwing up everything he had in him. When there was nothing left to come up he had collapsed against the wall panting, sweating, puke clinging to his unbuttoned flannel, some running down his chest. And then it happened. He cried. Hard. He cried for the first time since she'd left him. He cried for the first time since his father died. And he knew for a fact, that night he cried harder than he ever had in his life.

It was a day and a half before he got up off that bathroom floor.

Luke was staring at the floor when Liz bent down in front of him. She took his face in both her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Luke," she said, "I know you tried to find her. I know you wanted to, and I agree that you couldn't go on living like that forever, but this," she motioned to his defeated posture, the wallet he'd been unable to open, "this isn't working either. You can't just shut off Luke, you can't just seal yourself off from your emotions, from your past…"

He turned his head frustratedly, trying to get away from her steady gaze.

"Luke," she said turning his head back, "I don't' know you like this. When you decided to shut off your past you shut off _you _too." She glanced at the wallet and looked back at him pleadingly. "Please, I'd _really_ like my big brother back."

With that she kissed his forehead and left, leaving Luke to his thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**A/N:** Sorry it took so long...next one may take some time too...I'm out of the country at the moment.

Once again, Luke awoke to pounding on the door. 'Friggin deja vu,' he thought. Only this time he didn't get up to answer. Instead, he grabbed the nearest pillow and buried his head under it trying desperately to shut out the sound. "Owww," he groaned. His head hurt. A lot. As he struggled to escape the sound his leg hit the sea of empty beer cans that scattered his bed and he remembered…well actually he didn't remember much of yesterday after Liz left. What he _did _remember however, was that he had drank—heavily. Geez, he hadn't been hung over in…well, actually he'd been hung over a lot these past two years, but before that it had been a really long time.

"Luke!" a voice boomed by the foot of his bed. Clearly the person had stopped knocking and let themselves in—thanks to the continuing pounding in his head Luke hadn't even noticed.

"Go away Caesar," he groaned into his mattress.

"Nice try," came the reply. Then, before Luke new what was happening he felt the mattress slipping out from beneath him, sending him to the floor in a clatter, a shower of beer cans following after.

"Wha—" was as far as Luke got before he was momentarily blinded by the drapes being torn open and sunlight, very painful sunlight in his opinion, flooding the room.

"Ugh, how long has it been since you've opened a window in this place!"

"Caes—!" Luke stopped short, squinting up at the figure above him, using his hand to try to shield himself from the light. "You're not Caesar."

"Ah, you always were a quick one," was the reply, followed by what felt, to Luke, like roaring laughter.

Covering his head with his hands he groaned loudly. "How'd you get up here? What are you even doing here?"

"Cleaning up this mess apparently."

Luke wasn't sure if 'this mess' referred to him or his apartment.

"This town in charming, Lucas. I'd forgotten."

"Same damn place," he groaned. "Same crazy lunatics."

"Yes, they must be. Imagine, still caring for your surly ass all these years."

"Thanks, Mr. B. Thanks a lot."

"Humph," the old man replied. "There's Advil on the nightstand and a glass on the kitchen table—drink it and don't ask me what's in it. Works wonders though. Pick up these cans and for heaven's sake take a shower Butch, you smell worse than the locker room after a meet."

"No," Luke said, "no, Mr. B thanks for coming out here, I'm sorry if the Stars Hallow crazies dragged you over. I don't know what they told you but everything's fine and I'm taking today off…maybe I'll work on that math problem of yours some more."

The sarcasm of that last bit was not lost on the former teacher so he decided to cut right to the chase. "Son, when you ran track for me it was not an _option_ when I told you to run sprints till you were doubled over. When you sat in my history class it was not a _choice_ to take the pop quiz I gave. And right now, what I am telling you is not something you get to say 'no' to."

"Well…"

"Those are a lot of stairs, Lucas, and they're not a fun climb with a cane. You have exactly seventeen minutes to be washed, dressed, and downstairs in that diner looking half alive or I will be forced to come back up here and bring you down myself. And I would highly advise against that or you're going to think this is the varsity team's loss to Ridgemont all over again!" With that Mr. Bolton poked Luke hard in the ribs with the tip of his cane and shuffled out of the apartment yelling, "sixteen and a half minutes," over his shoulder.

Just over fifteen minutes later Luke emerged from behind the curtain strapping on his watch. Bolton had him timed to the second, as Luke knew he would. Amazingly enough, whatever concoction the old man had made up had come ridiculously close to curing the hangover.

"Haha!" the old man laughed victoriously. "Come along Lucas" he said, already shuffling towards the door, "it's a beautiful day and we're going to enjoy it!"

Luke rolled his eyes and followed his old teacher, making a mental note to add him to the list he'd give the nice people with the white coats when he finally called them to haul away all the crazies in his life.

"Feel like standing in the lake tryin to catch trout with your bare hands?" Mr. Bolton asked as he and Luke began walking across the square.

"Sorry, what?" Luke replied.

"Want to go scare some campers?"

"Excuse me?"

"How 'bout standing on your hind legs, pounding your chest, letting out a good roar?"

"Huh!" My God, Luke thought, the old man really has cracked.

"You look like a bear," Mr. Bolton replied his brown eyes twinkling as he nodded at Luke's very much unshaven face, "I thought they were legitimate questions."

Luke shook his head but said nothing, letting the old man gloat a bit at his cleverness. Finally he asked, "so where're we going exactly?"

"Where did we always go?" was the reply.

Luke thought and then nodded. "Ah." And sure enough, moments later the pair were climbing the stairs of the grey metal bleachers surrounding the Stars Hallow High track.

"Feeling nostalgic?" Mr. B inquired as they took a seat.

Luke shrugged. "It's changed."

The old man stared out at the track. "Anything worth keeping eventually does."

Luke stared at the ground for awhile before he sighed. "Look Mr. B, I know you're trying to help and I know you want me to find myself again and all that but I can't okay? I just can't. I have to shut off my past or I can't go on. I'm in hell right now Mr. Bolton—_hell_, and that's where I'll be for the rest of my life. I'm not looking to escape it anymore— I have this town to take care of, I have my daughter to take care of, so I make myself at least go on. Every morning, every day, I go on the only way I know how."

After a few minutes of thoughtful silence Mr. B responded. "I'm not going to tell you to go after her, Luke. I'm not going to tell you to surround yourself with pictures of her so you'll remember her, who you were with her. I'm not even going to tell you that you're wrong. I _will_ tell you to make a decision. You're no good to anyone if you just exist, Luke. So if that's all you're going to do then it's not worth it."

Luke shifted his weight and glared angrily up at the man next to him. "So what are you trying to tell me then, huh? _Not worth it_! All this crap about finding myself and now you just want me to blow my brains out!"

"I'm telling you I think there is a _reason_ why you _haven't_ 'blown your brains out,' despite how utterly depressed as you clearly are. I think you want more than to just 'go on' Luke."

"It doesn't matter what I _want_!" he ranted, his brow furrowed, his voice still angry. "Life doesn't just give you what you want. I'm faced with a reality here and I'm just trying to make some sense out of it!"

"Then stop."

"Don't you get it! She _left_ me!" He was on his feet now. "She slept with Christopher! We were _engaged _and she slept with her _ex_!"

"After two years you really want to play the blame game about this?"

"Hey! I'm not the one who disappeared! I never went anywhere—_she_ knew where to find _me_!"

"Sit down, Lucas," Mr. B said calmly.

Luke fumed but managed to sit down as he was told.

"I'm not going to tell you you're wrong—it doesn't matter what I think. Should you try once more? Maybe …"

"I can't."

"Of course you can. You love her…"

"No!" He was back on his feet. "This 'love' thing—it's bullshit! It's some abstract word the Hallmark Corporation shoves down your throat but really it's _nothing_!" Luke looked into Mr. Bolton's steady gaze. "If there was a poster couple for this 'love' thing we were supposed to have been it. But then she left. She walked away. _Nothing _stopped her…"

"Not even you," Mr. B pointed out.

"Well I was angry! I was shocked—I mean my whole world was crashing down and…"

"And you made a _mistake_," Mr. B finished. Your emotions got the best of you and you made a mistake. People do that, Luke. And sometimes they don't know how to fix them—even when the answer seems clear to everyone else."

Luke sat silently for awhile and when he spoke his anger was gone. "I can't. I can't watch her walk away from me again. I can't let myself love her again…I couldn't survive if she left again," he said, the last line coming out in a whisper.

Mr. Bolton laughed. "Well of course she'd leave you Luke."

Luke sat back a bit, shocked. "Excuse me?"

"Luke," Mr. B put a hand on his knee to calm him and looked at him seriously. "We are born knowing we are going to die. Six feet under is the ultimate destination for everyone. Yet, people get very worked up over their time in between—school, work, passions, successes—even though they _know_ what the end result will be. People fall in love the same way, Luke. You love with someone _knowing _that one day they _will _leave you. Maybe you break up, maybe you grow apart, maybe they die. Something will happen. There is no such thing as forever, Luke, it doesn't exist. But love? That does."

Luke sighed frustratedly, holding his head in hands, looking down at his shoes.

"I know you're hurting Luke, but ask yourself—if you could go back and avoid this relationship—would you? Would you never let yourself meet her, never let yourself be her friend, never ask her out? Would you?"

Luke closed his eyes, thinking…

"_Oh, it's great!" she was practically squealing with delight, trying to steady herself, attempting to glide gracefully across the ice._

"_Keep away from trees." He worried briefly she might break an ankle or something but then again he constantly worried about her, an ice rink didn't change that._

"_Ah, I look like a dork but I love it," she cried over her shoulder as she flailed her arms for balance. The smile was back in her voice…oh, that voice._

"_You look fine." That voice always made him smile back, internally at the very least. She was lying to him…there was something more to her story about why she hadn't felt well _

_this morning but it was okay, maybe it was the damn snow, but whatever it was, it was okay. He trusted her. She was it for him. No matter what happened, from here on out they were gonna be okay, he could feel it._

"_You want to be Randy to my Tai?" _

_He had no idea what that meant, but even if he had he probably would have replied much the same way, "Nah, I'll just watch." And he did, sitting in the cold like an idiot watching a crazy woman in her thirties skate about like a six year old, giggling the whole time. And as he shook his head at how nonsensical the whole ordeal was it struck him that amazingly he wasn't cold at all, in fact he had never felt quite so warmed. He heard her laugh echo through the yard and her brown hair fall over her face as she wobbled to maintain balance and it dawned on him that in this moment he was happier than he had ever been in his entire life._

"No," he whispered, opening his eyes.

Mr. Bolton let slip a small smile as he stood up. "Endings suck, Luke. There's no way around that. What makes them bearable, what makes life worth living at all, is everything else. If this was your end with Lorelai, Luke, than take comfort in that.

Luke looked up at him. "If?"

"You still love her Lucas," the old man shrugged. Then he turned and descended the metal stairs. "Think about it," he said with a wink.

Luke watched him walk away and then stood to leave himself when something caught his eye. There, on the bleacher, right where Mr. Bolton had been sitting was a small rock set on top of a very familiar yellowed piece of paper. 'Damn it, Bolton,' Luke thought. 'Stupid Liz must have said something about it to someone…he must have grabbed it off the dresser. Damn it Liz!' his mind yelled.

He looked back at the paper. That crazy man sure knew how to make his point. Luke really did have to make a choice, and make it now. Either he walked away and lost the horoscope forever or he picked it up, making his past a tangible reality.

Luke stared down at it, his former teacher's words coming back to him in a flood: _if this is the end…still love her…what makes life worth living_… And then he couldn't help but remember…

"_I need more time! I told you that." He just needed to think, make sense of things._

"_I'm afraid of this 'more time' stuff. I'm afraid it'll take forty years and that's not good." She seemed frantic almost._

"_Lorelai," he said her name almost warningly. He couldn't follow her, she knew he couldn't follow and she continued to talk in circles. He couldn't handle this now…_

"_We'll miss our middle! I want a middle! And the town is dividing us up! I need that to stop!"_

"_Don't." He stopped her rambling. He didn't know what the hell a 'middle' was supposed to mean but she was making this too hard. She was practically begging him…she was tearing at his heart and it was starting to hurt…his heart actually hurt…he couldn't possibly make a rational decision like this!_

"_Luke. I am all in. I'm all in. Please trust me. Let me show you what a great girlfriend I can be. But I can't wait. We can't wait…"_

A part of Luke hated himself for what he was about to do. The other part, the part that held that memory, that held all his memories, the part he'd tried to seal off…well, that part had known all along that no matter how long it took, in the end, this was the only way he was ever meant to be. With one last deep breath he grabbed the paper and left the bleachers, striding off in the direction of the diner, striding off toward uncertainty, and at the same time toward the only thing he had ever really known.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**A/N:** Thanks for all your reviews. Sorry it's been so slow, I have pretty limited computer access right now.

Luke walked quickly, determinedly, back through the town—feet hitting the pavement hard, shoulders broad, arms making short, sharp swings, jaw set. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do—he just knew he was going to do _something_.

He started to move in the direction of Sookie's house, thinking that if anyone had gotten information in the past two years there was a good chance it was her, when he felt himself look up and stop short. His breathe caught a bit and his solid, determined posture dissolved. He had thought he might never see her again and now there she was, brushing her brown hair behind her ear as she stood on the wooden porch of the Kim's, just yards in front of him.

It had been just over a year since he had last seen Rory Gilmore. She had been his last and final resort in his hunt for Lorelai. He could vividly recalled the night he has last seen her.

_It was a Thursday, for some reason he remembered that, that he had sat in his truck outside her apartment at Yale for almost an hour, watching the rain pound and streak his windshield. He hadn't wanted to come, he had tried so hard to avoid this. He knew Rory loved him but, obviously, her loyalties lay first and foremost with her mother. He was sure Rory knew where Lorelai was and by this point in his search it seemed she was the only one. It was that fact that had driven Luke to come. He had tried for so long not to do this to her, not to put her in the middle, not to make things harder for her…but he was desperate, he had run out of ideas, out of options—Rory was the only chance he had left._

_She had appeared genuinely surprised to see him when he'd finally gotten up the strength to ring the doorbell, but Luke felt it was surprise not so much that he had come but that it had taken him this long. She invited him in and he noticed her surprise fade into nervousness. She knew why he was there and that he knew she knew the information he had spent night and day searching for. She tried to take his coat but he kept it on, dripping wet and all. As she looked at him in the nervousness transformed into a look Luke had grown to know well—pity. He had come to expect it. He looked like a wreck and he knew it—he had almost a full beard, he couldn't remember the last time he had showered, he was pale and haggard, deep bags under his eyes that after so many sleepless nights he felt they must have been embedded there, his eyes didn't seem to be able to focus—they skipped and darted throughout the room, his walk was unbalanced as if he was in a permanent state of drunkenness._

"_Oh Luke," was all she could say after several moments of silently taking him in._

"_Rory…" he had started but that was as far as he'd gotten before she'd thrown herself into his arms, not caring that he was soaked from the rain, her face buried in his chest, her shoulders shaking as she began to sob. For a moment neither of them could speak._

"_Luke," she said though sobs, "I thought I'd never see you again. God, I thought I'd never see you again."_

"_I know," he whispered, tightening his hold on her._

_She sobbed harder. "I'm sorry Luke!"_

"_Rory…"_

"_I'm sorry for you, I'm sorry for her, I'm sorry for me—I'm just…everything's such a mess!"_

_Luke continued holding her until her sobs became silent tears. He wanted to keep her in his arms, to hug her forever because in a way he thought she might be all he had left. She was the closest thing he had to _her_ and Luke knew if he continued with his reason for coming here he would lose that too but he couldn't help it, he couldn't restrain himself any longer. He had to know._

"_Rory," he finally began, pulling her away so he could see her eyes, but not taking his grip off her shoulders. "It's been almost a year. I'm a mess. I've tried everything I can think of, Rory, and I've got nothing but dead ends to show for it. Rory I need to know where she is. Please, let me go to her…"_

"_Luke," she broke his gaze, shaking her head, looking almost fearful of him, "no. Don't, please, Luke don't do this to me…"_

"_Rory I'm dying, I'm dying here Rory, please! She's my world Rory, you're the only shot I've got left, please! She wouldn't have to know it was you who helped me, I could say I figured it out some other way…just…please!"_

"_Luke, I can't! I can't tell you Luke! You know I can't tell you!" she was sobbing again, harder this time._

"_No, no, no! You can! You have to! Rory I can fix this! Just give me a chance! Please! Let me fix it, I've always been able to fix it!"_

_Rory just shook her head, sobbingly trying to break out of his grasp. "It's not for me to give Luke…this isn't my choice…"_

"_It can be! Please! Rory!" He was out of control now, lost to desperation. He felt his knees weaken and went to grab onto her again—partly to steady himself, partly in attempt to persuade her. Before he could though he felt someone else grab him from behind, pull him back. He turned and saw blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. It was that kid…Landon or something. Luke had no idea when he'd gotten there, where he'd come from, if Rory and him were even still together. He tried to focus but it was as if the room was spinning and all the voices seemed far away. The kid was saying something to him…"okay…Luke…need to leave…now…" The kid was pulling him toward the door… "Logan…" he heard Rory speak. So that was his name Luke remembered. He looked back at Rory, sobbing with her arms hugging her chest. He had done it again—gone and hurt everyone who meant anything to him._

"_Rory," he whispered, his heart breaking at what he had done to her._

"_I'm so sorry Luke," she sobbed almost incoherently. "I love you! I do! I wish I could tell you Luke! I wish she'd come back! Luke believe me! You have to believe me!"_

_And with that Luke allowed the Logan kid to lead him out the door, usher him through the rain and into his car, saying things to him in an uncertain but sympathetic tone, although Luke couldn't distinguish any of his words._

_That night his search had ended. He had nowhere else to turn and he hated himself for what he had done to Rory. He had never wanted anything but to protect her, ever since she was a little girl, and the fact that she needed someone to protect her from him was a burden that he knew would stay with him for the rest of his life. He resided then to the fact that the Gilmore girls were gone from his life, excepting perhaps in his dreams. Lorelai was not to be found and he no longer trusted himself to be around Rory and not cause her such pain. So that night when he finally gathered himself enough to drive away from Yale he tried his hardest to never look back._

And now, without warning, there she was—Rory Gilmore. She looked older, he noted, as he watched her say something into the screen door where he presumed Lane must have been standing. She looked even more like her mother.

She exited the porch and began making her way down the walk. The corner of her eye caught his familiar blue baseball cap and she stopped short, turned, and stared at him staring back at her.

For a moment he was sure she would turn and run. For a moment he wondered if he should. But then he saw her begin hesitantly in his direction and he felt his own feet move forward, each step quicker than the last, until he once again had the youngest Gilmore girl wrapped in his arms, crying.

For awhile neither spoke and he surprised himself by kissing the top of her head. That made her look up, equally surprised, and she raised her hands to grasp his face, running her fingers over his features as if to check that he was real.

"I wasn't sure…" she started through tears. "I mean, I thought you might have…" she broke off into sobs, unable to continue.

"I know," he said softly, pressing her to chest, "I know." He paused before pulling back enough to place his hand on her check, urging her to look at him. "Are you okay Rory? Have you been doing alright?" He wanted to know everything about what had happened to her this past year. He wanted to take care of her again.

"Yeah," she replied, voice still shaky, "I'm okay, Luke, I'm alright."

Breathing deeply, Luke felt viciously torn. He wanted to hug her forever, to never let go of his last link to Lorelai Gilmore. But that last night that he had seen her still hung clear in his mind. When Lorelai left him she took most of his heart with her. If Luke stayed near Rory too long he probably wouldn't be able to fight the temptation to inquire about her mother and if he did so, forcing her to choose, watching her break again, he was certain the rest of his heart would crumble as well.

Rory seemed to sense his internal tension and pulled back just enough to look up at him. "Luke," she began, "you know I still can't tell you…"

"I know, Rory."

She looked so saddened, so defeated, as if he was her last link to something too—the family she had been dreaming of perhaps. She wanted to tell him, she wished she could tell him, Luke could see it in her eyes. He'd seen it that night at Yale too.

"I…I should go…" she stammered, tears threatening to begin again.

He nodded, stroked her hair once, and released her slowly, painfully almost.

She kissed his cheek and began walking away quickly. Luke sighed, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and began to turn away when he heard Rory call his name from across the lawn. He spun around to face her.

"She loves you Luke!" Rory called, breaking into sobs. "She still loves you! She's always loved you! There's no one else…I just wanted you to know, there's never been anyone else!" And with that she ran off in the direction of her car, unable to look back.

Luke stood still, staring off after her even when the car had long since rounded the corner. In a way, he almost couldn't believe it—she still loved him. He took the horoscope out of his pocket and held it, turning it over in his hands, running his thumb over each crease in the paper.

"_She told me to hold on to that horoscope, put it in my wallet…that one day it would bring me luck…"_

After two years Luke knew one thing for sure—he did _not_ believe in fate. Luck, however, he had yet to make a decision about. It would have made for a nicer story for Luke to believe his relationship with Lorelai was 'fated'—that she would follow her heart all the way back to him and all would be forgiven and they'd ride off into the sunset to live happily ever after for the rest of their lives. That was the kind of story that was just made for you to tell your grandkids about. But none of that was realistic, not of that depending on 'fate' stuff made sense, and no matter how 'nice' it would be to have things happen that way, Luke knew they wouldn't, not without a push. If luck was going to be that push, hell, Luke would take it—'nice' sounding or not.

With that thought in mind Luke took off running in a full sprint, loafers only grazing the ground as he went—in fact he didn't even realize he was still heading towards Sookie's until he was coming up her street. Bounding onto the porch Luke alternated pounding on the door and bending over, hands on knees, trying to catch his breath. "Sookie!" he yelled. "Sook—"

"What? What?" a slightly sleepy Jackson grumbled, opening the front door, apparently having just been awoken from a nap. He seemed shocked to see who it was, but recovered quickly. "Luke?" he questioned because although Stars Hallow had only one baseball hat wearing, flannel clad diner owner, no one had seen Luke this…well...lively in some time. "What's wrong? What happened? Are you okay?"

Luke seemed a bit taken aback by the last question and pondered it seriously for a brief second while he caught his breath enough to shake his head and reply, still slightly panting, "I don't know. I don't know what okay is anymore…"

"Alright…" Jackson said slowly, not sure of where to take the conversation from there.

"Sookie!" Luke said, remembering why he came. "I need to talk to Sookie! Where is she?" he pressed Jackson.

"Well, she not here, she had to go to the inn today but…"

Luke didn't wait for him to finish before taking off toward the Dragonfly. It seemed farther than he remembered it, but then again it had been years since he'd been anywhere near the property. He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he charged up the lawn, across the porch, and through the screen door, into the reception area, trying his damnedest to concentrate on finding Sookie, thereby warding off the avalanche of memories that seemed to reside in every corner of the building.

"Yes," Michel sighed as Luke began to approach the front desk, "how may I assist…_you_!" Michel let out the last word in a tone filled with almost accusatory shock as he had finally torn himself from the catalogue he'd been flipping through and seen who it was that had come in. He now stood wide-eyed, staring at a very determined looking Luke, seemingly trying to decipher if the flannel image in front of him was actually who he thought it was.

"Where's Sookie?" Luke monotoned.

Yep, it was. "I…I do not know," Michel stammered at first but quickly regained control as he came around the counter. "Do I look like her babysitter? Now go, you are scaring the guests—all that facial fur makes you look like some sort of animal."

Luke waited long enough to roll his eyes at the over gelled, over manicured Frenchman before side stepping Michel's attempts to usher him back toward the door and striding into the dinning room. "Sookie!" he demanded, stepping past some startled guests.

As he made his way toward the kitchen door Luke could hear Michel coming after him, though unable to match his long strides, calling, "It's the baseball man! Stop the baseball man!" Inwardly, Luke found his shouts odd…until he burst through the swinging kitchen door just in time to see the back door slam shut. Luke stood, planted in his spot in the doorway, taking in the scene before him as a rather agitated Michel came crashing into the room behind him. The five or so members of the kitchen staff had halted their chopping, stirring, and arranging and were now watching Luke intently. Next to the now still back door, at the opposite end of the kitchen stood a very nervous looking Sookie, a dish towel being nervously wrung between her hands, two mugs and a half empty pot of very black coffee sitting on the small wooden table behind her.

"Hi Luke!" Sookie tried, but he voice came out in a high squeal, betraying her attempt at nonchalance.

Luke shot her a single menacing stare before he shot past her and out the back door. Once outside he glanced around widely, searching for a clue as to which direction he should pursue. He was about to charge straight ahead towards the woods and in the direction of the stable when he heard the sound of an engine starting and a car being thrown into reverse coming from the parking lot off to his right. Luke turned the corner in time to see a blue sports car moving out of the Dragonfly parking lot. In the second or so pause the car made before pulling out into traffic and speeding down the street Luke got a glance at the driver's dark wavy hair. And he may very well have imagined it, but when his eyes darted over the car's rear view mirror he could have sworn he saw a pair of eyes staring back at him in a hue so blue he knew could have only seen it once before. And then, just like that, the car and its driver were gone.

Luke tried to make himself stay calm, he tried to make himself be rational. He failed. His fingers balled themselves into fists so tight they pierced his knuckles white, he felt his breathing become belaboured and heavy, his vision blurred, and his jaw clenched as his feet moved themselves in loud pounding steps back to the door of the kitchen, which was violently kicked open. "That was _her_! Wasn't it? Wasn't it!" he heard himself bellow at the kitchen as a whole. Finally his eyes landed on Sookie standing next to the sink below the back window, dish towel in hand.

"Now Luke…" she started slowly, nervously.

Her reaction was all Luke needed to affirm his conclusion. "You knew!" he screamed at her, still in disbelief of the fact.

"Luke," Sookie took a few steps backwards, while vocally trying to calm him, "Luke, this isn't what you think…just let me explain…"

"You knew!" he screamed again incredulously while slamming his fist across the counter sending two pots and some potatoes flying across the room.

"Please just calm down and…"

"Calm down! You want me to _calm down_! I've been going through _hell_ here Sookie—_hell_—barely hanging on, only to find she's been in front of my face the whole time!" Another pot was sent clanging to the floor. "I know you're better friends with her than me, Sookie, I'm not looking to be invited to any slumber parties here, but I thought that at the very _least _you cared about me enough to pass on _some_ sort of information! Just something so maybe I'd have a shot of one day waking up and not being disgusted by the fact that I was still _alive_!"

"Luke!" she screamed at him as a coffee mug hit the back wall and shattered.

"Ya know, I'm not even asking for much here but after_ two years_ a subtle 'oh hey she's _alive _by the way' might have been nice! How many other people knew huh? What was it a town conspiracy? Was it on the agenda at the town meetings? In some sort of code maybe? Huh!"

"Luke this isn't fair!" Sookie cried at him.

"Not fair! Not _fair_! You want to talk about not fair!" he ranted. "You _knew_! You—"

"Damn it Luke!" Sookie shouted, cutting him off. "You're not the only one who thought you'd lost her!"

Luke paused his rage long enough to be slightly taken a back by her sudden changed of tone.

"Sit down Luke," Sookie commanded firmly, motioning with her head to the small table she's been standing by when he's first burst in. After a moments hesitation Luke did as he was told. "Go check on the guests," Sookie told he the kitchen staff who gladly took the chance to escape. "Not you!" she grabbed Michel's arm as he began to exit the kitchen. "You're in the this too."

"Not by choice," he sulked. Still weary of Luke, he positioned himself by the counter at the opposite end of the room.

Sookie sat down in the seat across from Luke and looked at him intently. "I never lied to you Luke."

Luke shook his head in disbelief and annoyance. "I asked you if you knew where she was, you said no, and yet she was here! You lied—end of story!"

"It's not that simple Luke."

Was that her sitting in her, with you, just now?"

"Luke…"

"Yes or no Sookie!"

Sookie sighed and sat back. "Yes," she said softly.

"Then it is that simple," he snapped, getting up to leave.

"No," she said, her voice soft but heavy as if weighted down by what she knew as she grabbed his arm, pulling him back to the table, "it's not." She put her head in her hands. "Sit down Luke, we need to talk."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Gilmore Girls.

**A/N: **Thanks so much for the reviews and sorry for the wait between chapters...like I said my computer access is limited right now.

Sookie sighed deeply and looked across the table at Luke who was slouched in his chair, jaw set firm, his face turned in profile to her as he stared off into space, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. She folded her hands on the table and chewed lightly on her bottom lip, unsure of how or where to begin.

"Luke," she started finally, "I need you to listen to me."

He grunted but made no move to look at her.

"I know how this looks," she continued, her voice firmer now, "but you have no right to shut me out. I did _not_ lie to you. And don't you _ever_ accuse me of not caring for you!" She paused after that, but the emotion that had crept into her voice was not lost on Luke and he now turned to look at her. His left hand was lying, fisted, on the table top and Sookie placed both of her hands over it, as if such contact might help him understand her.

"Luke," she continued softly, "no one was as affected by her leaving as you, none of us can even fathom the pain you're in, that you've been in, alright? No one's debating that. But what I don't think you realize is that we were hurt by it too, we lost her too—I did, this town did—she left all of us. That year you spent searching—don't you think we were searching too? She's my _best friend_, Luke, and she was gone, just like that—no goodbye, no idea where she went, no idea if she was even alright…But, well, there comes a point where you have to move on I guess, keep living life…which is what we all did." She bit her lip again. "That doesn't mean we ever stopped hurting though."

Luke stared off again. "How was I supposed to move on with my life? She _was_ my life."

"I know," Sookie replied softly, running her hand soothingly over her arm, "I know…Luke, I swear to you that entire year you searched I had just as little clue as to where she was as you did. Only one person knew…"

"Rory," he supplied for her.

Sookie nodded and continued, "after you gave up searching you…you just kind of disappeared, Luke. For months you lived like a hermit inside of that apartment and…and Stars Hallow all of a sudden hadn't just lost one person—we'd lost two." She paused letting her words sink in on Luke. "It was sometime during those months you were…" she paused searching for the right word, "M.I.A., that I got a phone call."

Luke looked up at her.

"It was from Rory, which wasn't completely unusual, but what was odd was that it was pretty late at night and she was dead set on having me come meet her here at the inn. Jackson thought it was crazy, but it was so rare that Rory came around Stars Hallow I just couldn't say no, I didn't even question her. When I got here I found her standing outside the stable. The light was on, which it shouldn't have been, and she just smiled at me and told me to go on in. She seemed so happy Luke, it had been a long time since I had seen her so excited about something…so, of course, I went in."

Luke's head was spinning with hurt, anger, accusation, confusion, and…well, a lot of things. He didn't want to sit there calmly listening to Sookie, he wanted answers. Rory had just told him that Lorelai still loved him! Hadn't she? Luke was starting to wonder if maybe he'd dreamed it…maybe this whole day was some damn nightmare and he'd wake up with a hangover and go about his life, the life he hated, but had gotten used to. Yet, he couldn't stop thinking about Rory, the way she had cried as she stood there across the lawn yelling back to him…why would she lie? He just couldn't believe she would have lied to him like that…But if she hadn't lied why had Lorelai run from him? Why had she been coming to see Sookie but never once made an attempt to contact him? God, she couldn't even have the decency to let him know she was _alive_…Luke's thoughts were broken as Sookie's voice beginning again, continuing her story.

"I walked in, and there she was, just standing there by the horses." Luke could tell Sookie was fighting to keep her voice steady. "I couldn't believe it, you know? It'd been a year, a whole year, of nothing and then…there she was. I thought if I ever did see her again I might be angry with her…maybe I should have been…but, in that moment all anger was gone…I was just so happy to have her back, even just for a little while." Sookie paused to brush a few silent tears away. "I had a million questions for her, all the same questions you have I'm sure, but she wouldn't discuss anything. She looked at me after we were done crying and screaming and hugging and said, 'Sookie, I know there's a lot you want to know and there's a lot you have the right to know…but I can't go there yet.' And she had such a pleading look about her when she said it…Luke, she was as haunted by the past as you are… I mean, she was doing okay enough, don't get me wrong…but she wasn't good, Luke, leaving wasn't easy for her."

Luke made no reaction except to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Sookie took his silence as a request to continue.

"So we didn't talk about any of the whys or hows. We talked about Rory, we talked about the inn, we talked about Davey and Martha, and about the town…but not you Luke. Every time we got close to the subject of you she just looked like she was going to break. It was then that I knew she still loved you Luke, I mean I would have thought so anyway but…but that look she had anytime the _idea _of mentioning your name occurred to her…that's how I knew. We talked, gosh, we must have talked until almost dawn that night. She didn't want to stay too long though, she didn't want anyone to know she had come…"

At this Michel let out a snort, clearly offended that he had not been included in this original meeting. Sookie rolled her eyes and shot him a look. He said nothing further and returned to staring out the window above the sink, sipping coffee from the mug he had apparently poured at some point during the conversation.

"She wanted to still work for the inn. Obviously she'd be an absentee owner, but she said she could give me a cell number and she could work on things from where ever she was. She said she just didn't want to give it up, you know, it had been her dream, our dream, and she just still wanted to be a part of it. Well, how could I say no?"

She caught the look on Luke's face upon his hearing that she had had a phone number for Lorelai for quite some time now.

"It's not like you think Luke," she hurried to continue. "I had no idea where she was, it was just a cell number. She never answered it either, it always went to voicemail. I was a little hurt at first, I had wanted to talk to her, but it was better than nothing I guess. I would leave questions or information about the inn and then she would email me her answers. They were always short and never about anything more than inn business. If I gave you that number Luke all you could have done was left a voicemail…"

"It would have been _something_!" He cut in, angry again.

"And then we would have lost her for good," Sookie replied. "I couldn't bare the thought of that Luke. This wasn't much but at least it gave me hope that there could be more, that she wasn't gone completely." Sookie sighed, not sure of how to make him understand. "No one else knew about any of it, Luke—not the visit, not the phone number, not the emails, nothing."

"Especially not me!" Michel spat bitterly from his corner. Sookie raised her eyebrows at Luke as if to say 'see?'

"If she was so secretive and if no one else," Luke shot a pointed look at Michel, "knew then why was she sitting here in the kitchen, with the staff, during the middle of the day, with this guy shouting warnings all the way through the dinning room? Huh?"

"Well," Sookie went on, "there's more. About…" she paused thinking, "three months later…or, hm, maybe more like four…" she caught Luke's impatient look and decided not to worry about specifics. "Okay, well a few months later then, I was staying later than usual at the inn working on a cake for a wedding we were having. I always stay late the night before a wedding, I have to check and re-check the menus and there's always something to add to the appetizer list and…" she caught another look from Luke and cleared her throat, getting back on track. "Anyway, I guess I'm kind of predictable like that, predictable enough that Lorelai knew she could find me. I was just standing there mixing some extra icing when I hear the back door open and in she walks. I was stunned. And then, you know, it was more hugging, and screaming, and crying." Sookie laughed at her own antics before gesturing to Michel. "And that's when he got involved."

"Yes, heaven forbid I be _invited_ to anything, nooo, I have to find out all for myself," Michel went on.

Sookie continued, "Apparently he'd forgotten something or another…"

"My live recording of Celine Dion's second Montreal concert is not a 'something or another'!"

"Anyway," Sookie went on, "he heard the yelling and walked in the kitchen."

"Just like old times, you two never provide any peace and quiet for anyone…"

"Oh please Michel!" Sookie shot back, "you were so happy to see her you just about cried—and that was after squealing and hopping around like a school girl." She turned to Luke, "don't let him fool you."

"I don't really know why she came that time, Luke. I think she just wasn't doing so well and maybe needed to know she hadn't lost her past completely. I also think, well, I think she wanted to be close to you, just for a little bit, and although the inn was as far into Stars Hallow as she could force herself to venture…it was still Stars Hallow you know? It was still somewhere the two of you had a lot of memories…in a way, I think it was her way of convincing herself that she hadn't imagined the time she spent with you." Sookie looked up at him. "God, Luke, she loves you. I think that's why she came back here, just to try to remember what that felt like. She used to tell me how the happiest moments of her life were the ones she spent with you. I think she needed to feel that again, to remind herself she had to keep going on…" Sookie broke off, willing herself not to cry again.

Luke shook his head slightly, as if to clear his mind as he tried to sort it all out. "That's what Rory was saying," he commented, more to himself than anyone else, "that she still loves me, that there hasn't been anyone else…"

"She's right Luke," Sookie cut in, "it's like…it's like she's incomplete without you, like she doesn't know how to live now that you're gone…"

Sookie's voice brought Luke out of his thoughts and back to the conversation at hand. "Then why did she _leave_? Why did she run from me just now? Why…" he trailed off before sighing dejectedly. "Just…_why_?"

"Well, I…" Sookie began before pausing to search for the right words. She let out a sigh of her own. "I don't know. Luke I know you have questions, I have them too. I can only answer so much." She tightened her grasp on his arm. "There's only one person who can tell you what you want to know…what you need to know."

Luke ran his free hand over the blue material of his baseball cap and broke Sookie's gaze as he resumed staring off into space ahead of him.

Sookie took that as her cue to hurriedly resume her story, struggling not to lose him—this was the closest she had seen him come to going after Lorelai, to even admitting Lorelai's existence. She couldn't help feeling torn though—Lorelai had never specifically asked her to avoid saying anything t Luke…but she had a feeling it was an unspoken assumption. However, she knew how much Lorelai was suffering, how much Luke was suffering, so even though it might not have been what Lorelai would have wanted now Sookie couldn't shake the gut feeling that by telling Luke everything she knew, even if it wasn't much, she'd be helping them both in the end. Or at least she sure hoped so.

"That second time she came," Sookie went on, "she was having trouble being superwoman. You know how she is…but she was so upset Luke, she was like you've been, really, and she was having trouble covering that up. So, after exhausting meaningless small talk I finally asked her what she was doing, where she was staying, why she wouldn't just come home…" as Luke turned to face Sookie, intrigued by her confession, it was Sookie's turn to stare off, a far away look in her eyes. "She just started crying, Luke, crying and crying and saying she couldn't over and over again. So of course I started crying." She looked up at Michel. "We all cried."

Luke too found himself glancing in the direction of the Frenchman, waiting for his next dry, cutting remark. None came though. Instead, Michel stood silently leaning up against the sink, staring into his coffee cup, absently tracing circles around its edge with his finger tips. If Luke hadn't seen it he probably wouldn't have believed it, but he realized that the annoying poodle-owning receptionist actually looked…well…sad. That solemn, heart-wrenching type of sad…the kind Luke had come to know so well. It was in that moment Luke realized that he would never be able to despise the whiny little man again. In fact, although he'd never admit it, there might even be an off chance he could grow to like him.

Sookie gathered herself and continued. "She said she couldn't tell me where she was or where she was going." She saw Luke's face fall a little. "But she told me she'd tell me where she was at least." She took a deep breath, trying to remember all the details, just as Lorelai had told them to her, and continued. "She said that after she left she didn't know what to do, where to go, she was just…numb. So she drove, just drove and drove, playing the U2 records straight through—from _Boy _to _How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb_—over and over. She called it a 'Bono' situation." Sookie gave a soft laugh at the rememberance. "She drove until she simply couldn't anymore. She just got out of the car, looked around, and realized she'd ended up in Chicago. She stayed there, just about up until the first time she contacted me…so a little over a year I guess? That was how long it took her to, 'become human again' as she put it. She didn't go into a lot of detail but it seemed she basically just went from hotel to hotel, moving on when she couldn't stand one place anymore. I don't think she worked. It sounded like her parents were sending her money, through Rory of course. That just tells you the state of things—that her parents were willing to hand over the money without demanding the details of her whereabouts, and, even more so, that she was willing to just take it. Finally, and I think a lot of it had to do with Rory, she decided she had to keep living I guess. So she left Chicago. She was on her way to Flordia when she stopped to see me. She met up with Mia, who has a condo there, and stayed with her. She got a job working for her sister or friend…someone. It was something in an office…secretary or receptionist or…well something like that. It was a job, you know. And she still had the inn. She flew up to see Rory a lot. If it wasn't for her having Rory…" Sookie trailed off shaking her head. "I'm just glad she had Rory."

A silence fell over the group as Luke took in what he had heard, mentally trying to trace her path over the years. Finally he spoke. "So she's in Florida?"

Sookie's eyes fell to the floor as she shook her head. "No."

"But I thought you said…"

"She _was_ in Florida."

"Oh." Luke's shoulders slumped as he sank back in his chair. He had felt like he was so close…

"She wasn't meant for Florida, Luke, and she knew that. I mean this is the woman who could _smell_ snow. Florida was somewhere to escape to, somewhere where she could learn to live again, but not a place to stay. A few months ago she moved, got a job she said she was better suited to…something she enjoyed…she said, well, she said she needed all the reasons to get up in the morning she could. She said she really enjoys it, it takes her mind off of things anyway, at least for a little bit…"

"And she's been coming to see you ever since?" Luke cut in.

"No," Sookie replied, "this was actually only the third time I've seen her. The staff, well, none of them live in town really, they don't know too much of what's going on so I guess she's not worried about them seeing her. I got an email last week saying she thought we should meet to go over a few things for inn in person and, well, I wasn't going to turn down a chance to see her. She was here for about an hour before you got here. She wouldn't tell me where she was staying now Luke…I don't know, and I didn't want to push the issue too much. She seemed better than last time she was here, whatever this new job is I think it's doing her some good but…well she's just _surviving_ Luke, not living really." Sookie raised a hand to his face and turned his chin towards her, forcing him to look at her, "kind of like you," she said softly.

Luke got slowly to his feet, almost unable to believe how close he had been and how little good it had done him. He caught sight of the pots lying on the floor and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry about the pots, Sookie…I'm sorry…"

"I know," she said coming up behind him and placing a hand softly on his shoulder.

He began to walk out but paused in front of a slip of paper on the counter. "Is this the number?" He asked, running his fingers over it lightly.

Sookie nodded. "It's an updated one. She said she got a new phone…something about losing the old one in the move…" Sookie bit her lip nervously. "Luke…I can't…I mean I wish…but…you can't call that number Luke."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know." When he was almost out the door he heard Sookie call after him.

"Don't give up on her Luke!"

He paused for a moment but in the end said nothing and continued out the door. He paused in the foyer, watching Michel, who had left the kitchen a few moments before him, check out an elderly couple. Michel looked up and the two of them shared a look that to some outsider might have looked not only non-disdainful but of a sort of equal respect.

"It is a shame you do not have a cell phone number," Michel commented to his guests, slightly louder than necessary. "It would make it easier for us to contact you in the future."

"Oh we don't have much need for that," the woman explained.

Michel went on, disregarding her comment. "If you should get one, take a careful look at the area code. Those that are somewhat educated about such technological matters would know that although some numbers have universal, non-distinctive area codes, some share the area code of your residence...which is helpful if you plan on residing there for some time." He gave Luke a pointed glance.

"We really don't need a cell phone," the woman reiterated, oblivious to the exchange of glances that had taken place around her.

Luke walked outside thinking. _I had no idea where she was, it was just a cell number... She wasn't meant for Florida, Luke…_ _she moved… new phone… share the area code of your residence… plan on residing there for some time…_ He felt his head jerk up as his mind scrambled, trying to recall the three numbers he'd seen at the start of the phone number. Finally it hit him. "Brooklyn," he whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**A/N: **Sorry it's been so long but I'm finally done traveling for awhile. This one's pretty short and really only about half of what I wanted the next update to be but I decided to post this just to get an update out. The next part should be up pretty soon. Thanks guys. :)

Jeff Danes was Luke's second cousin. The two had been pretty close as kids but had grown apart when Jeff got married and moved to his wife's hometown in Texas. However, their friendship had been renewed about nine years ago when Jeff had moved back East for a few years to get his master's degree. Jeff hadn't had a lot of money during that time and had moved around a lot, mostly going wherever the rent was good. He had stayed longest however, in a small studio apartment in Brooklyn. And though Luke feared letting himself get his hopes up too much, he was almost sure that the area code of the number he had dialed after every Red Sox and Yankees game matched the one he'd seen on that paper.

Back in his apartment he emptied the contents of his kitchen drawer out on the table, shifting through papers until he found what he was looking for. Triumphantly holding up a scrap of blue paper his eyes scanned it until he found the area code for Jeff's Brooklyn phone number. He let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding—they matched. "She's in Brooklyn," he whispered aloud to the empty apartment. He was actually a bit stunned—after a full year of fruitless searching and another spent trying to forget, he now knew where she was.

It all actually made a lot of sense when Luke thought about it. Her whole life was in this area, Rory still lived around here—he should have known that she couldn't stay too far for too long. And she loved New York City, she found it exciting and vibrant…he, on the other hand, hated the smog filled, overcrowded, headache of a place. In other words, she had almost a guarantee of never running into him there. Of course he had searched New York from end to end when she had first left, but after wiping it clean he had felt there to be no reason to check again. And she knew this, she had known he would think this way. After all this time, even when she was running from him, she still knew him, she knew just what he would and wouldn't think to do—and that, despite everything made Luke smile.

Moments later he was in his truck, diner cleared out, "gone fishing" sign in the window. And as he pulled out onto I-5, even though he wasn't taking it to Hartford, all he could think of was her…

_"I just thought that if something was going to affect our friendship in some way that you might care about that, because if the situation was reversed, then I would care, but hey, that's me, and so…go ahead, date her, marry her, make her Mrs. Backwards Baseball Cap, live happily ever after, see if I care." She turned to leave, furious with him._

"_And by the way," he yelled after her as he saw her hand hit the door handle. He was angry with her for acting like she could control him, but also thrilled she cared, that she was jealous. " I wasn't asking her out. I was giving her directions for the quickest way back to Hartford. It was very romantic. I said you take a right at Deerfield, and you catch the I-5 and you take it south. Oh man, hot stuff."_

_She was taken aback. "That is so typical of you!" she yelled, trying to save face._

"_What?" This oughta be good._

"_That is not the quickest way back to Hartford!" He almost laughed…almost. "Everybody knows that you take Maine to Cherry to Lynwood and then grab the I-11. Everybody knows that Luke. Everybody, apparently, but you!" With that she stormed out, slamming the diner door. He was glad her pride refused to let her look back, because if she had she would have seen he standing there watching her, the stupid smirk on his face giving all his feelings away._

Yeah, she was one crazy lady alright, but, damn it, she was _his_ crazy lady.

Pulling himself away from his thoughts as he realized he had reached Jeff's old burro. Bringing the truck to a stop next to the curb, he shut off the engine and stepped out. As his foot landed right in a wad of old gum that had been laying on the sidewalk, Luke remembered exactly why he hated the city. Sighing, he attempted to use the edge of the curb to scrap it off of the rubber sole of his loafers. As he did so, his mind wandered back to his conversation with Mr. Bolton. Maybe the old man had been right. They had both made mistakes, lots of mistakes. One of hers was running away like this, hiding from him. Maybe, he thought, just maybe she knew it was a mistake and maybe she really didn't know how to fix it. To him the answer was obvious enough—he saw it every night in his dreams, whether he wanted to or not. He saw her come back to him, waltzing into the diner even though the sign read "closed," demanding coffee, flipping her hair, and kissing him so that any wrong in the world simply ceased to exist. Yet, maybe to her, such a solution wasn't so clear. Maybe…

Luke sighed again as the last of the gum fell from his shoe. He looked around his surroundings. What was he doing here? He was being irrational. Here he was standing on the sidewalk in front of one of the hundreds and hundreds of apartments in Brooklyn without a clue of how to begin his search for a woman who so clearly did not want to be found. He leaned against the steel light pole on his left and took off his cap, running his right hand through his matted hair, before replacing the blue cap, adjusting the brim in the back. Bolton was right, Liz was right, Rory was right, hell, the whole town was right—he still loved her and, for God knows what reason, he would love her until the day he died.

It scared him that he was starting to understand her way of thinking but he now knew exactly what she had been talking about with wanting a middle because now that was what he wanted too. In fact, it was all he wanted—and he too was scared that if he didn't do something now it really might take forty years…if it happened at all.

So he began walking. Just picked a direction and walked. One foot in front of the other. Simply because he had no idea what else to do. He had to think like she would. God, he almost laughed, now there was a scary thought. But where would she go? What would she do? What kind of job would she want to hold? What kind of job would she love? What kind of job would be enough to pull her out of bed each morning?

He watched a few pigeons squawk at him as he by them, wings fluttering to get away. "Damn birds," he muttered, knowing deep down he wasn't that different from them. Something big and unknown was charging at you? Quick, flap your wings and run away, go hide, try to forget it ever happened. She was like them too. They both were. He shook his head and walked on, hands stuffed deep in his jeans pockets.

What would she do? If he was her…again, scary thought…and he had just arrived in a new place, a place where he was going to live for, well, a significant amount of time at least, where would he go? Moving in, getting settled in an apartment was probably the first thing. However, he looked around at the rows of apartments surrounding him, that was not going to help his search. So what would be the next priority, if he was her? Okay, a job, place of work, that would be good right? And she loved this job from what Sookie said…but, he had no idea what that could be. A hotel maybe? She was good at managing, dealing with people. But he felt that might be too reminiscent of her Stars Hallow life. She wanted distance right? So…maybe a bank? She could manage at a bank…but, no, she didn't like math and numbers all that much. Too boring for her, it would have to be somewhere that she could invest more of her crazy personality in. A store manager maybe? No, he regretted even thinking it—running a store had Anna written all over it. He turned right at the end of the street. This was harder than he had thought.

He moved aside on the sidewalk to let a woman pushing a baby stroller with one hand and a holding the arm of a crying toddler with the other pass him. As he tore his gaze away from them he was struck by a sense of familiarity. He actually smelled it before he saw it—a small shop on the corner across the street baring a red sign with yellow lettering: Mocha Beans. Of course, he kicked himself mentally, coffee!

As he rushed across the street he couldn't believe this hadn't been his first thought. This crap was practically her oxygen. He could see her owning a coffee shop, running a coffee shop, working at a coffee shop, or what have you. And, he noted, even if this wasn't her job she would have to have somewhere to buy coffee at. It was basic survival for her. A coffee shop was perfect. He was relatively sure that she wouldn't be a regular at some other diner, at least not quite yet. If she was struggling with leaving half as much as Sookie claimed she was, if she was unable to even talk to Sookie about him then he doubted she could frequent some place that would be so reminiscent of him, of Stars Hallow. Sookie had said they were both stuggling, both suffering the same sort of pain. And if the situation was reversed he could have never found another inn to repair things in…even if it was in a different city, a different state. But coffee? Well reminiscent or not he didn't believe she could give that part up, so where else would she get it if diners were out of the question?It had to be acoffee shop!

Luke wasn't sure what he expected to happen as he burst though the doorway of the overpriced death bar. It was probably fair to say a small crazy part of him expected her to just be sitting there at a table, listening to the whiny music they played, mug in hand. Of course though, that wasn't the case. A few people looked up to take in the newcomer before going back to their crossword puzzles and newspapers. Most though, didn't even seem to notice his entrance. He spotted a red haired girl in a long skirt sitting in a chair by the corner, scribbling away in a notebook like if she didn't hurry it might get up and walk away before she could get all of her thoughts out. He wondered briefly if Jess spent his days like her. He was proud of his nephew, there was no doubt of that, however, he gave off no pretensions of understanding this writing for a living business. It seemed completely impractical, but he was young and, Luke supposed, that seemed to be what youth was for. He, on the other hand, had no excuse for his impracticality. Maybe that realization should have stopped his madness, sent him back to his truck, back to whatever sanity he could gather in the nut hole of Stars Hallow. Maybe it should have, but it didn't.

"Can I help you, man?"

"Huh?" Luke looked up to find the kid behind the counter staring at him. He had been all for storming through those doors almost triumphantly. He hadn't given a damn thought, however, to what he would do once he got inside.

"Are you gonna order something?" The kid looked like he wanted to get back to reading his book.

"Yeah, ah…" Luke trailed off as he studied the menu hanging above the counter. He didn't even know what half this jibberish translated too, but he could guess it was all pretty disgusting. Finally he gave up the idea of trying to fit in. In flannel and a baseball cap he figured he didn't have much chance of looking like he belonged anyway. "Do you sell tea?" he finally asked.

The kid nodded and pointed to some tea packages near the register. Luke took a peppermint package and paid the kid for the glass of hot water. He took a seat at the counter and stared at the newspaper in front of him. He knew this was far from the only coffee shop in Brooklyn but maybe, just maybe…

The phone ringing broke Luke's thoughts. Another kid, a girl this time, came out of the back to pick it up. She laughed into the phone and said something Luke couldn't make out. "Hey, Jacob," she called after hanging up, "you got your bike here?"

The kid that had gotten Luke's tea, Jacob apparently, nodded, not looking up from his book. Suddenly the girl's words seemed to register as he let out a groan and turned to face the girl. "Again? I was just there forty minutes ago!"

The girl shrugged, smiling. "Aw, come on." She began pouring things into a to go cup. "It's not that far. Besides," she shot him a pointed glance, "it's not like you'd actually be upset about another opportunity to feed your pointless little crush."

Jacob looked like he didn't know whether he wanted to react more to 'pointless' or 'crush.' He seemed to decide denial was a fruitless route. "Pointless? Yeah, shows how much you know…"

"Puh-lease!" The girl rolled her eyes and added extra whipped cream to the top of the glass. "She is sooo out of your league. Not to mention old!"

"Whatever, Jennifer, whatever." Jacob seemed to be shaking off embarrassment. "Just gimme the cup."

"Grande caramel macchiato, extra whip, extra espresso." She handed it to him. "Must be a busy day."

As the boy took the cup and walked toward the door Luke couldn't help letting a "jeez" escape his lips. Talk about a death order. The girl, Jennifer, heard him and laughed. "Yeah, I always thought I was an addict but this lady's got me topped! It's not even two o'clock and that's her third one of those today!"

"Yeah, I used to know someone like that."

"Well,I don't think it'sher," Jennifer said off-handedly as she began cleaning up some of the dirty cups. "Not unless you're from Florida, which," she looked Luke up and down, "I'm gonna say you're more of a Northern mountains kind of guy."

Luke almost spit out the sip of tea he had taken. "Florida?"

"What? Oh, yeah. That's where she moved here from…"

Luke stopped listening. He was off the stool and out the door in almost one motion. He had a bike to chase.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gilmore Girls.

Luke did his best to keep that Jacob kid and his beat-up looking red bike in his line of vision. Lucky for him, where ever they were headed didn't seem to contain too many turns. He tried not to sprint after the kid, not wanting to chance letting Jacob realize he was being followed. The kid might think he was some sort of psycho and try to loose him. 'Hell,' Luke thought, 'I am some sort of psycho.' Trailing some kid on a bicycle really hadn't been on his list of things to do today but then again what about the day actually had? It had all been so insane Luke had given up making sense out of it. In fact, he was starting to chalk all the madness up to some crazy dream. He'd wake up soon, back in his dark, musty room, beer cans covering the bed, and one hell of a hang over. He was sure of it. But, he thought as his lungs began inhaling the smoggy New York air in sharper, quicker breaths, he couldn't shake the feeling he had somewhere deep down in his gut. He felt…well, he just felt _close_, which was something he hadn't felt in years. Close to finding her, close to finding himself, close to _living_. Maybe it was all dream, maybe he'd wake up and go back to his life of sensical nothingness, but until then, until he woke up, he got to feel close, and at this point it just felt so good to feel anything at all that Luke let himself pursue it, real or not.

He hadn't been keeping track too closely but his best guess was they'd traveled about seven blocks south of the coffee shop and three or four blocks west…or was it east? He ventured to take his eyes off the bike for a few seconds to study the sky and sun above him. No, it was west, he'd been right. Another two blocks south and one block west, with Luke always a safe block and half behind the bike, Jacob stopped outside a small red brick building in a residential area. It didn't seem to be the best part of town but Luke would have bet quite readily that it wasn't the worst part either. He remained on the opposite side of the street as he closed the distance between himself and the now parked bicycle. He kept waiting for the boy to go inside or make some sort of move so he could get closer to the building and figure out what it was but Jacob did nothing but wait outside the metal gate. Luke was running out of sidewalk space on his side of the street so he bent down behind a blue mailbox on the corner as if to tie his shoelace. From this angle he could see the building a little better and spotted playground equipment behind it. It didn't look big enough to be a school building but then again who was he to say?

"Hey mister, how long is it gonna take you to tie your shoe?"

Luke turned his gaze from the building to the source of the voice. Standing over him was a boy, not more than eight, maybe nine, with short dark hair and his hands on his hips. "Well," Luke stammered for an answer…stupid kid was going to blow his cover, this is why he didn't like kids, they without fail had the worse timing. "you gotta make sure it's nice and tight," he finally finished, tugging his laces extra hard for effect.

The boy's brown eyes looked him up and down. "Ya know, you oughta try the bunny method…it works."

"Uh," Luke didn't know what he was supposed to say to that. The bunny method? Was this a serious conversation? "Sure, I'll ah, I'll keep that in mind." There was a pause as the two continued to stare at each other-- Luke crouched on the cement, the young boy hovering over him. 'Go away kid,' Luke's mind begged, 'go away.' He gazed back down at his shoe and made a show of double knotting it thinking that maybe when he looked back up the boy would be gone. Tilting his head upwards he sighed—no such luck. "Do you need something kid?" he asked finally, glancing nervously in the direction of the building where Jacob still stood, coffee in hand.

"You're blockin the mailbox," the boy stated plainly.

Luke for the first time saw the white envelope sticking out of the boy's jeans pocket. Damn kid. "Oh," he said trying to figure out how to get rid of him, "well why don't you just hand it to me and I'll put it in when I'm done here?"

The kid shook his head. "I gotta do it."

"What you think I'm gonna steal you're letter?"

"It's important."

"Come on kid, gimme the letter."

"No. My mom said I had to do it."

Luke shot one last look across the street where Jacob still stood alone. "Alright," he sighed getting to his feet. He stepped aside and watched the boy jump for the top of the box. "Aw, jeez," Luke muttered. "You're gonna hurt yourself. Here," he said as he lifted him up by the waist so he could drop the letter in.

"Thanks mister," the boy said as Luke put him back down.

"Uh, yeah," Luke said still gazing at the mailbox. He had seen letters like that before…years ago when he would go visit Liz. They had something to do with welfare or food stamps or something…Luke couldn't remember exactly. He looked back at the boy with new found sympathy. "So how come your mom wanted you to mail it?" he ventured.

The boy shrugged. "She's sick again."

"Oh."

"I should get back to her," he gestured toward the building across the street.

"She's there?" Luke asked, puzzled.

The boy nodded. "We're living there right now." They both turned at the sound of the door opening from across the street.

"Ty!" a woman's voice called.

At the sound of his name the boy took off across the street, running up to the metal gate. Luke ducked back behind the mailbox. He was pretty sure his heart stopped.

"Ty, you know you're not supposed to go out alone, you need to ask me."

"I'm sorry…but hey, I had Justin and Matt order you more coffee!"

"Again," Jacob put in light heartedly.

And then Luke heard it. She laughed. He kept his back leaning up against the cool metal box, afraid to turn and look, as if even peering from behind the edge might get him spotted, or worse, make the scene across the street somehow disappear. As her laughter drifted up into the cloudless sky he struggled to breathe. No matter what happened in his life from here on out he knew he would never be able to erase the image of watching that door open and her step outside, brown curls blown back by the wind, voice as clear and sweet as ever. He had seen her. He could hear her. After two years of hell the woman that had put him there was just a few yards away.

"_Yeah, well, I guess it is time for a little spruce." God, he never talked to anyone about his father. Why was he talking to her about all this?_

"_Yeah, it is" She paused ever so slightly before grinning at him. " But let's not spruce this particular spot."_

_He smiled back. Yeah that was why. She was crazy, she was goofy, she drove him nuts until he thought he might exploded and then she found ways just to annoy him more…and she was perfect. And that was why, that was why he would talk to her, tell her things he'd never told anyone, things he'd barely even said to himself. He would have bared his soul to her. But all he said in reply was, "That sounds good."_

"_Okay." She looked at him. He began to get up. They had been sitting on the ground it only made sense to get up…_

"_Oh, jeez…" he groaned as he saw Taylor and the town gathering outside his store front._

" _No, no, don't get up." She was pulling him back down to the floor where she was still seated._

_He didn't understand. " But if I don't get up—"_

"_They'll go away. They'll go away, trust me. Shh." She pulled down harder and this time he obeyed as Taylor continued rattling the doorknob and knocking on the window._

_Luke inwardly rolled his eyes as he listened to Taylor rambling on " What are they doing? They should be in there. Just imagine it all in pastels. The whole thing." But with nothing to see the excitement soon died and one by one the Stars Hallow nutcases went back to their regular, crazy lives._

_He couldn't believe it, they'd left. Just like that. He turned to her. " Thank you," he said softly, referring to Taylor but somehow…well somehow he knew he meant for more._

" _You're welcome," she replied with a smile that could have melted him. His breath caught a bit and his eyes wouldn't let themselves be torn away from hers. He thought if he could stare just a few moments longer he really might see straight into her soul, they were that clear, that blue. And although he might have imagined it he was sure she was staring back at him. But then, as if on cue, he heard her whisper, " I should go." And he let her._

Sitting there behind the mailbox on some street in Brooklyn he didn't even know the name of Luke's heart raced. How many times had he done that? How many times had he just let her go? Let her go because it made sense, because he thought he had to, because he didn't know what to do to stop her? How many times?

He shifted his leg and felt the horoscope crinkle slightly in his pocket. Luck…he sure as hell needed luck. If it was going to come one day he prayed like hell it would be that day.

Her voice broke his train of thought as he heard it drifting over from across the street. "Thanks Jacob, sorry if they bothered you…"

"Nah, it's no bother."

"I do appreciate this though." He could hear her smiling, he could actually hear it.

"Long day?"

"No, no, not long…that makes it sound so unbearable." She laughed again. "Just a lot going on today. A lot of people going through a lot of really hard times…"

"Yeah, I'm actually glad I can't relate to that kind of pain," he said offhandedly. "Ya know?" he questioned after she didn't respond.

"Oh," she sounded like she had been lost in thought. "Yeah." Luke noticed she actually sounded sad.

"So you'll stop by on you're way home from work? I'll tell Jen to have your usual ready?" Luke heard him climb back on the bike.

"Of course," she responded, sadness covered up, if Luke wondered, it had really been there at all. She began off-tune, "You know, it's a five o'clock world when the whistle blows…"

Jacob laughed as he road off. "See you then Lorelai."

Luke glanced at his watch. He had until five o'clock.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews--it's great to hear what you think. :)

**A/N2:** This is updated to correct the mistake in April's age. Thanks for catching it. She is 15 in this story, not 12.

At five o'clock that day Luke was sitting in his truck across the street from the coffee shop. After what, to him, felt like an eternity, he finally saw her walking down the street and into the shop. He glanced at his watch—5:12. He actually found the fact that she was still dependably late very comforting.

Biting his lip and shifting nervously in his seat he realized he had no idea what he should do next. He was here. He was so close. But honestly, what did he think was going to happen? After two years of running from him he could just follow her into the store, pay for her coffee, and she'd throw herself into his arms and allow him to whisk her all the way back to Stars Hallow? He sighed frustratedly. No, she wouldn't do that. She'd probably run from him. Disappear all over again. Then Sookie would hate him for chasing her away completely. Or, and Luke really couldn't decide whether this or the prior scenario was worse, he would walk in there and she would…well, she would do nothing. No dramatics, no yelling, no tears, no reaction. She'd look right through him, like he was less than just some everyday person she'd cross paths with on the street. He'd be nothing to her. Luke sank down further in the driver's seat. All that crap Bolton had been preaching had gone to his head. Who was he kidding though? He couldn't do this. He had sealed himself off for a reason, he needed that in order to survive.

He jumped a little as he felt his cell phone vibrate against his side. Reaching down he tilted it so he could see the caller id and when he recognized the number he felt his heart skip a little. He couldn't help it, it happened every time he saw that number call him, every time he saw it was her wanting to talk to him. His eyes remained trained on the window across the street, on the brown hair bobbing up and down with laughter at the shop's counter, like some sort of bobble head doll almost, as he picked up the phone.

"Hey, April…How are ya?…Good, good…yeah, really?…uh-huh…uh-huh…yeah, sure…" secretly, these were his favorite kind of conversations with her—the ones where she just rattled on and on about something he could barely follow. Not just because it amazed him at how intelligent she was, not because it allowed him to just be able to hear her voice runin that unhampered, unhindered honest way of hers while she was being just who she was, no games, no fronts involved. Oh, it was all of that sure, but it was mostly the fact that she wanted to talk to him, to make contact with him, to involve him, she wanted it so much that she felt the need to ramble at a hundred miles an hour like she was afraid of not getting it all in. She'd included details of details of details of the most insignificant things because she wanted him to know, to understand, to be a part of that aspect of her life. And to Luke, there was nothing insignificant about that. As his eyes continued to trace the wavy brown hair through the window he knew April wasn't the only person he'd ever felt like that about.

"Oh you did stop by?" he questioned her. "Oh, gosh I'm sorry I didn't know you were coming—did I?…Okay, good…yeah I am, I'm, uh, I'm fishing…" he hated lying to her but if Anna heard what he was up to she'd probably never let April come by again. She was already weary of him and his "state" as she called it. She had limited April's contact with him that first year after she left calling him "crazed" and "obsessed" and he hadn't seen her at all during his "hermit months" as Sookie had called them. It had taken him a long time to prove to Anna that he could handle being around people, taking care of people, that he wasn't suicidal. He didn't see April a lot yet, but he saw her often enough and talked to her almost daily. He didn't blame Anna for being so protective and a part of him was even glad. It took everything he had to present himself as happy and, well, normal around April. It took a lot to act like the world was still spinning on when inside it had long since fallen apart. He could only handle such a performance for short stints.

"Yeah, yeah…I may be out of reach for a few days while I'm fishing…" he winced over the last word but he knew it was for the best. "Right, cell towers and all…sure you explained the wavelengths to me last week…I did read the website about it…yeah it definitely helped…alright…uh-huh…well good luck with the astronomy paper then…I'll call you when I get back…okay…bye, April."

Luke gazed at the phone in his hand and then back at the woman in the coffee shop window. He had a daughter. He had a little girl who would be sitting by the phone waiting for his call in a few days because after all these years she finally had a father. He couldn't let his world go to pieces again. He couldn't lose control of himself again. He had to be there for his daughter. You have to put your children first. Even when that means you have to sacrifice a part of yourself. You have to. That was part of being a parent. In the back of his mind the idea that that exact philosophy was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place played like a broken record, but the rest of his mind overrode it. April first. That was the right decision. It had to be. If the situation were reversed wouldn't Rory be put first? Of course she would. Of course. And rightly so.

Luke stuck the key in the ignition. He had to grow up. He had to be parent now. He couldn't lose his daughter, he just couldn't. She hadn't asked to be thrown into the world of his drama. She had an astronomy paper to worry about, a boy in her math class she had a crush on, and a best friend who she might be in a fight with because of something someone said they had heard from someone else's brother's best friend. She wasfifteen and she had all that to worry about. And that was all she should have to worry about. A suicidal father should never make that list. He couldn't put himself in a position that could land him back in that mind set. He started the truck and pulled out into traffic, breaking softly at the light on the corner that had just turned red. He didn't let himself look in the review mirror. If he did he might never be able to drive away. This was for the best. He had seen her once more. She was alive and she was…well he couldn't have said that she was happy, not truly anyway, and she wasn't herself, not the self he had once known anyway, but she was functioning, she was getting by, she was okay, and at this point he thought that was all either of them could ask. Who was he to go barging in the life she had built for herself anyway and turn it upside down? They had both gotten to a point where they could survive, why wreck that?

The light turned green and he began to accelerate down the street, braking slightly to allow a car to merge into his lane. He glanced at the digital clock on his car radio and began calculating how long it would take him to Hartford. He could probably grab some dinner there before heading back to Stars Hallow. Heck, maybe he could even get a hotel room or something in Hartford, just to give him a chance to breathe a bit before he had to go back and answer questions about where he had been. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he barely took notice of the car that had pulled in front of him until they were stopped at the next light. He probably wouldn't have noticed had it not been for the blaring music streaming from the windows. Some rock group from the 80s, although he couldn't pinpoint exactly who. 'Punk kid,' Luke assumed as he stared at their New York license plate. It wasn't until the light turned green again that he took in the car as a whole, causing him to momentarily forget where the accelerator was. It was a blue sports car, clear as day, and Luke knew exactly where he had seen it before.

He felt himself glance almost instinctively at his jeans pocket. He had asked for luck, and he wasn't sure if this qualified as such, but it was sure as heck something. He was steering his truck after her before he even knew what he was doing. His first thought was to be startled that she hadn't bolted away from him. Upon reflection though, as he struggled to return his heart rate to normal, he highly doubted she would put two and two together like that. For starters she felt she was completely safe from him here, he would be the last person she would be looking for. Secondly, he had gotten a new truck in the last two years…it was similar enough that he hardly considered it 'new' but at the same time it was different enough that for someone that hadn't seen him in two years it probably wasn't screaming 'Luke!' And, most importantly, as he watched her head bounce along to the music and its horrible beat he knew she was too distracted to give the car behind her more than a quick, haphazard glance.

Luke was torn. His body and his mind were on two completely different tracks because while his mind had just made a very rational decision regarding April and all the reasons he should, no, all the reasons he _had_ to return immediately to Stars Hallow, his body was following that blue sports car like there was some sort of unbreakable gravitational pull attached to it. Luke saw her flip on her left turn signal and knew she was headed toward her new place. He also knew that he had to go right to get to Hartford and just like that Mr. I-Need-Time-to-Think-Things-Through found himself with seconds to make what he was sure was probably going to be the most influential decision of his life.

_"Whose phone calls or visits are never unwanted or too long? Do you see her face? Who would you most like to have in your life to ward off moments of loneliness? Do you see her face? When you travel, who would make your travels more enjoyable? Do you see her face? When you're in pain, who would you most like to comfort you? Do you see her face? When something wonderful happens in your life -- a promotion at work, a successful refinancing -- who do you want to share the news with? Do you see her face? Whose face appears to you, my friend? Whose face?"_

"Damnit!" he heard himself curse as he spun the wheel left and watched the Hartford mile marker disappear in his rearview mirror. When he couldn't see the sign anymore he focused on the only thing he could, the only thing he had left—that damned blue sports car and it's crazy Siren of a driver. He knew this was by far the most irrational thing he had ever done, he knew he may have just sacrificed everything he had left in his shell of a life in one split second decision. He also knew if he had to do it again the out come would be the same. After all this time, after everything that had happened, Luke could still only see one damn face.

They weaved through the various twists and turns of residential streets until the blue sports car finally came to a stop in front of a tall apartment building on the corner. Glancing up Luke would have guessed it to be about twenty or so stories tall—not huge but more than twice the size anything Stars Hallow had to offer. He parked his truck against the curb as well about four cars behind hers.

He was out of his car before he knew what he was doing and as he saw her driver's side door open and one black high heeled shoe step out onto the parkway grass he felt his breath catch at the thought of after two long years finally just being on the same patch of land as her. 'What the hell am I doing?' rang through his mind only once as he closed the distance between them since he was doing a pretty good job of keeping his brain on off—otherwise he knew he would never be able to make his feet move forward. Distractedly still humming the annoying song that had been blaring out the car window before she never heard him coming. Luke didn't understand how that could be—he had heard jets land quieter than his body was behaving right now. If there was any leaf, twig, or stick on the grass that might make a crunch his feet seemed to find it, his heart pounded so loudly in his ears he wondered if he would be able to hear her if she did happen to speak to him, and his breathing came out in shaky pants. His whole body tingled, his limbs were numb, and there were shivers running up and down his spine. She was just a few feet away from him and he wondered if he'd be able to keep it together long enough to close even that distance. Maybe this was too much for him. This was everything right here. It wasn't just some guy going after some girl. It wasn't just some scripted soap opera drama. This was everything. This was his life on the line.

As she shut her car door, her back still to him, she was juggling coffee, paperwork, dry cleaning, and her car keys. He was bending down to pick her things up even before they fell. He knew her that well. All this time and he still knew her. Sure enough, the car keys and the dry cleaning dropped. The papers jostled but she maintained her grip. The coffee never lost a drop. He could have scripted this scene it was so classically her. She was picking up the dry cleaning when she saw his hand grab her keys and offer them back to her. She laughed as she accepted them from his palm on her way to stand up.

"Whew! Haha, thank you. I'm a little…" her body froze as she saw him, her eyes grew wide, almost fearful, he could see her breath halt. "Oh…my…God…" she just barely whispered. All of her strength seemed to be going towards forcing herself to remain standing and therefore her arms lost out, falling limp to her sides, everything she had been balancing dropping to the ground. This time the coffee fell too. As the paperwork swirled about her feet she never moved, her eyes never left his. "Oh God," was all she could force from her lips. "Oh God…"

He willed himself to speak but although his mouth moved no sound came out. Even if it had he wasn't sure of what he could possibly say to her. And so they both stood there, as if trapped in time, her present life lying on the ground at her feet, his future as uncertain as the destination of the air born leaves swirling in the wind, both staring straight into the face of a past they had tried so hard to forget.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gilmore Girls.

Luke's mind reeled. This was it. This was the moment that was going to make or break his life. What the hell does a person do to prepare for something like that? It occurred to him briefly that it was probably pretty rare that people were able to recognize the most significant or changing moments of their lives while they were actually in them. Such conclusion was usually a retrospect thing. But there was nothing normal about Luke's life for the past two years, nothing normal about his relationship with this woman, hell, there was nothing normal about this woman! And so maybe it was fitting that as he stood there, inches from her, on the parkway lawn of some street in a city he barely knew, he could actually feel the weight of the moment lying upon his shoulders. He may have been standing still but he felt like he was falling off a cliff, flailing his arms widely desperate to find a piece of rock, a branch, anything to stop his fall. 'Say something! Do something!' his mind screamed. He tried, he really did—his lips formed words and his tongue tried desperately to usher them out, his arms jerked in attempts at the beginning of gestures, but that was always as far as he got.

She looked so shocked, so frightened, so…not like the way she should look. She was a real life Superwoman. She was always so strong, so determined. He couldn't stand seeing her on the verge of breaking like this, looking like she was made of glass, or perhaps something even more fragile than that. The closest he had ever seen her come to the way she looked now was that night he had found her out in the cold on a park bench near his diner. He had sat down next to her and she had broken into tears and rambled on about her family, Rory, things at the inn falling apart, and how she needed money from him, a lot of money. She had collapsed into his arms then, crying, sobbing about "failing." She was anything but a failure, he knew that. But she had scared him that night with her words, her tears, because when he had held her it almost felt like she was evaporating right there in his arms, like he was losing her while he still held her—she was that much unlike herself. He had been able to fix it then though. He had held her tighter, securing her, holding her together so that no pieces could fall, and he had told her it would be okay. And it was.

Looking at her now he knew he couldn't do that. He had lost that right to hold her in such a way. He had lost that right when he became the reason she cried, the reason she began to lose the vestiges of what made her that cape-wearing, lasso-wielding her. If he touched her now it might break her completely. And after thinking such things he couldn't help but fear for himself. His parents' early deaths had made him strong, forced him to be strong, made him a rock against so much of the world. He had had his share of hardships and sorrows but there was nothing he couldn't overcome soon enough, nothing before had threatened to break him. He was now overwhelmed though, standing on that cold, grey street in the Bronx, with the knowledge that tonight he could be broken. He had no defenses ready for what might come, and even if he did he knew there were none strong enough to secure him anyway. He looked at her and knew instantly that she felt it too.

" _People can evolve together, don't you think?" They were sitting on her porch steps and she was scared, he could tell. She was worried about his previous cynical ranting, worried he might have been right, even partially. _

" _Maybe." He didn't want to say yes. He was hurting. She had hurt him because she had refused to choose him, chosen someone else instead. There had been times he had thought he was close…but it had all been a lie. He couldn't help his earlier cynicism. Did he really believe what he had said about marriage? Maybe. Did it matter now though? No. He was letting her go, again, not that she was ever really his to let go of in the first place, and he was going to remain behind, alone, again. In his opinion that made his cynicism a right._

_She wasn't content with letting him off the hook though. She couldn't just leave him quietly. She wanted him to make her choice okay. " Yoko and John Lennon did. They just got closer and closer as the years went by. At the end, they had the same face."_

"_Yeah, it got a little spooky."_

"_But cool." She was trying so hard…_

_He wasn't sure what he believed anymore. That shouldn't be her problem though. His issues shouldn't ruin her happiness. If this was what was going to make her happy then he wanted her to have it. She was practically rolling a bulldozer over his heart with this whole conversation, this whole situation, but it was better than him rolling a bulldozer over her heart, her dreams. So he gave her what she wanted, needed, to hear. Maybe he believed it too, somewhere deep down... "Yeah, they were lucky. I guess if you can find that one person, you know, who's willing to put up with all your crap, and doesn't want to change you or dress you or you know, make you eat French food, then marriage can be all right." He knew he should stop talking there but he couldn't help himself, couldn't refrain from adding one last comment. It might have been directed at her, it might have been meant for himself, he wasn't sure, but he knew he needed to add, "But that's only if you find that person."_

_He knew it had struck her, and he couldn't decide if this was good or bad, by the way she repeated, "Yeah, if you find that person."_

_As they got up off the porch and stood facing each other under the chuppah he had made for her impending marriage with Max, he could only think of how he was on the verge of losing her._

And now, years later he had had her and lost her again, let her go, only to now be standing face to face with her, again on the verge of losing her—this time for good.

Maybe it was the memory that loosened up his vocal chords, but whatever it was finally allowed a single syllable to escape from his lips. Just above a whisper he heard himself let out a shaky, "Hi."

Now it was her turn to have her lips stumble in silent attempts at speech. She managed to blurt out syllables much earlier than he did though as a series of soft, shaking, "wha—", "why—", and "how—" jostled and interrupted each other as they fell from her mouth. Finally she halted them by pursing her lips together and breathing deeply, no doubt attempting to will herself into coherence. She had a million questions Luke knew, but had to decide on one to start with. "What…what are you doing…what are you doing here?" finally won out.

Luke wasn't sure of how to answer that question. It wasn't that he didn't have an answer, it was more of the fact that he had too many, and none very fitting. What was he going to say to her anyway? 'I followed you here?' 'I was just passing through and happened to notice you car?' 'Well when you ran out on me at the inn today I resumed my desperate search to find you, a search that took over my life for a year and then almost drove me to killing myself, losing visiting rights with my daughter, alcoholism, take your pick because the consequences were abounding?' 'I wanted to know if you were still alive cuz God knows I barely am?' It was a legitimate question Luke knew but he internally scoffed at it just the same. What was he doing here? What _wasn't _he doing here? Instead he went with a less direct, though less dramatic, reply. "I talked to Sookie today after…" he hesitated, "after I saw you at the inn."

She looked at the ground.

"That was you wasn't it?"

She nodded but didn't look up.

He gathered up his courage and continued. "So then after…yeah, I, um, I talked to Sookie."

"What did she tell you?"

"Um, well, basically what she knew I guess…She's, well, she's worried about you…everyone's worried about you…" he was about to add that he'd been worried too when she looked up again and interjected.

"I never told her I was here though…"

"I, I know…"

"The only person I ever told was…"

"Rory."

She nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah, yeah I know. I saw her today actually…"

"She told you?"

Luke shook his head. "No, no. She wouldn't…" He caught the relief that flooded out of her and realized that she had actually believed for a moment that her daughter, her lifeline, the only thing she had left might have betrayed her. "I saw your new cell number," he hurried to offer an explanation, hoping it might put her at ease. "At the inn, I saw it sitting on the counter at the inn. Sookie, she didn't give it to me or anything, in fact she explicitly told me I couldn't have it…I just, I recognized the area code see, cuz I had, um, Jeff, he lived her for awhile…my cousin, Jeff's my cousin…" he trailed off, mentally kicking himself for his incoherence.

"Oh," was her reply.

Luke was going to tell her about the coffee shop and the little boy by the mailbox and then almost leaving but seeing her car and choosing her over everything else in his life, thereby following her here…but he wasn't sure if she'd be flattered or think he was crazy. He wasn't sure of anything right now. He couldn't read her. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. Did she hate him for being here? Was she glad to see he was still alive and functioning? Did she care anymore?

"What do you want from me Luke?" Her voice shook, her eyes looked everywhere but at him.

"I…I…" Luke stammered…here it was, his big chance to wow her with some sort of speech, to whisk her away. He didn't have a speech for what he wanted though, and he couldn't make one so instead he said simply, "You. I just want _you_."

She began shaking her head, waving her arm as if to ward him off even though he hadn't yet had the courage to take a step. "No," she echoed over and over, "no."

"I…I mean…" she was on the verge of running he could tell and he was desperate to make her stay. "I tried okay!" he finally blurted out. "I tried to erase you, I tried to get over you, I tried to live my shell of a fucking life without you! I tried and I tried and I'm damn sick of trying! I can't do that anymore! I can't live like that…it's not living, it's surviving! I don't want my life to be like that. If…if you knew what's happened to me these past two years…hell if you knew what's happened these past few _days_…" he trailed off, momentarily thinking of Bolton kicking his ass around town and how much she would have loved to have seen that. "I don't know who I _am_ anymore! You've gotten inside of me, damnit, so far inside of me that I can't be me without you anymore!" He broke off his rant as he felt his voice begin to shake.

She stared at the ground in between them, giving him so little reaction he began to wonder if she'd heard him. He was going to attempt to ramble on further when she burst into life. "Damn you Luke! Damn you!" For the first time that evening her voice raised above a whisper. She looked up at him, eyes a blaze, anger clear. He was taken aback by her reaction as she continued, "Who do you think you are huh? Who! What the hell gives you the right to come barging into my world like this? Huh? The world that I had to build by myself from scratch to have a chance at surviving? To have a chance at life after you….after…after us! You can't just waltz in here because you suddenly felt like it and turn my life upside down! What do you want Luke? You want 'me'? Huh? You lost me Luke! You lost me when you stopped being 'all in'! You lost me when everything else in your life started coming first!" There were tears in her eyes but she fought them back. Her voices shook but she managed to choke out one final line. "You lost me!" She scooped up her belongings from the ground, struggling not to break down in front of him, and began moving up the walk to her apartment building's door.

Luke couldn't believe the scene in front of him. He was losing her—again. She was walking away from him—again. "No," he whispered to himself, in utter disbelief. His heart raced. He had to stop her…he had to make her see…he had to… "Lorelai!"

The sound of his voice echoing her name into the night stopped both of them in their tracks. It was a sound neither had heard in years, a word Luke thought he may have forgotten how to say, a world Lorelai thought she may have forgotten how to hear. For Luke it gave him new found courage, new found desperation. For Lorelai it brought new found pain as the tears threatened harder against her eyelids and her legs grew more rubbery, more unstable.

Finding the will to move Luke bolted from his spot on the parkway, reaching Lorelai in seconds, grabbing her shoulders, spinning her to look at him. "Don't," he begged her desperately, staring her straight in the eye, "don't you do this. Don't do this to me. Don't do this to _us_." She shook her head, tried to move away, he held tighter, forced her to look back up at him. "There is still an us." More head shaking. "There is still an us," he repeated, the steadiness in his voice coming only from God knows where. "Don't walk away from me again. I know you don't want to. I know you don't want this!" he let his right hand release her in a sweeping gesture around the neighborhood, her current life.

"It stopped mattering what I wanted a long time ago." She was barely whispering. "Don't make this harder…please."

He was losing her, he could feel it. The more she closed him off the more his heart broke. "We both made mistakes—big mistakes! But we can fix them! We can! I know," he tried to speak louder, to get through to her over all of her head shaking, "I know you don't think we can, because they were big mistakes, big mistakes with deep consequences, and…and there's been a lot of time in between…a lot…a lot of hurt. I _know._ God, do I know. But Lorelai, damnit, if we don't fight for us then who the hell will!"

She looked as if she were about to say something when a voice coming from the direction of the street broke through their conversation. "Hey!" They both turned toward the source and Luke groaned inwardly as he took in the sight of a blue uniformed police man leaning out of a patrol car. "What's goin on here?" he demanded. "Miss? Are you alright?" His glaring eyes never left Luke.

Lorelai glanced one last time into Luke's eyes, her expression unreadable and Luke found himself with no choice but to release her from his grasp. She nodded at the officer who smirked in Luke's direction as both men watched her retreat through her apartment building door, never looking back. Luke felt his mouth drop open as the officer pulled away. How had that happened? He had been so close…it just…it wasn't supposed to happen like this…it wasn't supposed to end like this! They were supposed to grow old together. They were supposed to raise children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. They were supposed to have a middle!

As he sank to his knees right there in the middle of her walkway the only truly coherent thought he had regarded how much sense it made that it had just now begun to rain.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**A/N:** Thank you for all your reviews! This should really be two chapters but I couldn't find a decent place to break it off so I just put it all together. There will be at least one more chapter after this one...

When Lorelai left her apartment the next morning it wasn't much after dawn. She hadn't slept and now that it was light out the only logical thing to do seemed to be to wait outside Mocha Beans until it opened, as there would be no survival to this day if coffee was not involved.

She had seen Luke fall to his knees through her bedroom window. She had seen him sit there until the rain picked up to the point of pouring and the thunder began. She had left the window for a time—tried to eat, tried to sleep—and when she did look back outside she saw what she had expected—nothing. He was gone.

She exited the elevator that she had taken four floors down, walked passed the mailboxes, and stepped outside her apartment building finding at once both the last and the only thing she expected.

At first glance he looked almost dead, and in some ways maybe he was, as his body slumped against the light post outside the door of her apartment building. The way his chin jutted into his shoulder made it clear that falling asleep was an accident. The way his shoulders rolled forward, his arms gripped tightly across his chest made it clear that the sleep was anything but a peaceful one.

The sound of the building door shutting jolted him awake and he saw her immediately upon looking up. For a second they stared at each other, having nothing to say and absolutely everything to say all at once. He tried to act like it was natural to keep his arms wrapped tight around himself. He tried to shift his weight so she wouldn't notice when he shook each time a chill ran through him. He tried to act like her finding him on the ground in front of her building was the most natural thing in the world. He tried acting like he didn't already know she could see straight through him.

She took one look at his dripping wet clothes, clinging to his body, colors darkened by the dampness, glanced skyward at the nonexistent covering he had clearly sat under all night and shook her head. "Damn you Luke," she breathed, just above a whisper and seemingly directed more to herself than him, "damn you."

He coughed once but excepting that made no other attempt at communication. For some reason nothing came to mind. He knew it was cold, he knew he was wet, he knew he probably shouldn't be there. He knew all of that but felt none of it. He was numb, just numb. She could disregard him right now, step over him and go about her day. He wouldn't stop her, he couldn't. And if she did maybe he would still be sitting here when she got back, maybe he wouldn't. Either way it wouldn't matter. He knew that. If she left now, it would be for good.

Biting her lip she moved her head so as to usher him out of her line of vision and took a small step forward. She began another but halted as she felt the wind blow cold, shaking the leaves and branches, howling in a piercing fashion. She turned back to him.

"You idiot," she said, staring at his dripping clothes, "why…" she trailed off. He didn't take offense. He had sat out all night in the pouring rain, stalking a woman who wanted nothing but for him to leave her the hell alone. He thought he was an idiot too. "Damn it Luke," she said as she opened back up the door to her apartment building. She gazed at him just briefly enough on her way back through the entrance that he understood this wasn't her running again. This was a truce of sorts. He would have held out hope for a Switzerland joke except he knew very well this wasn't her accepting him either. She just couldn't bare to see him die from the elements in front of her building.

He followed her wordlessly up to her apartment. He rubbed his hands together, scuffled his feet across the floorboards. Nothing. He couldn't feel a thing, not a damn thing. On the fourth floor she ushered him inside apartment number twenty-two and shut the door behind them. He stood in the door way dumbly and she made no attempt to ask him to come in any further. She disappeared into a closet as he gazed around the small apartment. It was bland he noticed. Not at all a "Lorelai" apartment. Excepting the few framed pictures of Rory, a handful of pillows on the couch, a colorful blanket, everything looked…lifeless. Beiges, browns, and grays flooded his vision. Sookie had been right—she was surviving, but just like him, she'd stopped living. And his heart broke a little further at that.

"Here," she said handing him a towel and avoiding eye contact. He accepted wordlessly and began to dry the water off of his face and neck. She stared out the window, her back to him as she continued, "There's a dryer over there, I'm sure you can figure out how to make it work. I got it in under a week so should be a breeze for you. Just leave the towel…leave the towel wherever when you're done." She turned back around and picked up her purse. "I'm going to work. I have to go to work." She began to walk past him. "Just use the stuff and…"

"Lorelai." He spoke her name softly but clearly, the first time he'd spoken that day. It stopped her in her tracks, him grabbing her arm as he said it really proved unnecessary. He opened his mouth again and she looked him in the eye for the first time in two years. The sight of her blue eyes burning into his once again was enough to stop him in his tracks.

"Luke, you have to get out of those clothes. We were best friends for eight years, I'm not letting you die of phenomena outside my door. But," her breathe grew sharper and less steady as her eyes began to fill, "God help me Luke Danes if you respect me at all, if you do now or ever, _ever_ have cared for me in the slightest as a friend, a human being, or whatever else you will not be here when I get back."

He couldn't gather himself in time to cover his shock. "Lor—"

"No Luke," she whispered hoarsely, willing tears back, "no. I'm going to ask one last thing of you. I have no right to but I'm asking it anyway. Go. Please, just go. Dry your clothes and go. As the last favor you will ever do for me, _please_…" she trailed off as she began losing the struggle with her voice. In his shock she was able to loosen herself from his grasp. "Just don't be here," she repeated just above a whisper as she disappeared out the door and down the hall.

Luke stood still for a few moments, wondering if this was really happening. And then, breathing deeply, he did as he was told. He took off his clothes and put them in the dryer. He never felt anything. It was like he was walking in a cloud of some sort, like the world around him was out of focus. Or was it falling apart? Maybe it already had. He had forgotten how to tell. He walked around the apartment, refraining himself from touching anything. She wouldn't want him to. There were six pictures, all in brown wooden frames. Rory as a baby, Rory as a toddler on Halloween, Rory in a Bangles t-shirt and butterfly wings, Rory graduating Chilton, Rory asleep on her bed at home surrounded by books, and Rory in front of Yale. That was it. Six pictures. All Rory—no other faces, not even herself. It was as if she didn't want to acknowledge that she had a past outside of her daughter, a past of her own. Luke looked at the two neon pink and green pillows on the couch. A seemingly inappropriate seeming splash of color in the dull room. Rory had bought them for her, he was sure. The purple and blue blanket too. Attempts at bringing Lorelai back to herself. Attempts that clearly had failed. He sank down into one of her wooden kitchen chairs. What hadn't failed?

When the dryer buzzed Luke found he had no idea how much time had passed. He couldn't decide if it felt like it had been minutes or hours. It was almost as if for him time had ceased to exist.

He got up and gathered his clothes from the machine, slowly putting each piece back over his body. He folded the towel she had given him and placed it on top of the small dryer. He wondered why out of all the investments she could have made cramming a washer and dryer into her tiny apartment took priority? He supposed it was a question he could add to the list of Lorelai mysteries he would never get the chance to solve.

After slowly tying his shoes Luke walked to the door, pausing for a second with his hand on the doorknob. He looked back around the room behind him, a sight that if he hadn't already been so numbingly defeated might have broken him the rest of the way. It wasn't right. It wasn't her. It wasn't supposed to be like this—not for either of them. He questioned himself as to what had gone so wrong, so horribly, devastatingly, unforgivably wrong. He lied about April…for two months. He kept her away, he lived two lives, he separated the things most important to him, he took her forgranted. She gave him an ultimatum. He got offended, refused to be pushed like that. The happiest, most important day of their lives shouldn't take place in some wedding chapel in Vegas, or wherever she had in mind. She'd slept with Christopher. She'd slept with her ex, the cause of so much previous hurt and mistrust between them. She'd hurt him in the deepest way she knew how, and then she'd left him. But as he looked around the room, taking in her life now, as he reflected on his life for the past two years…no, no not 'his life', his 'existence' of the past two years…it all just seemed so wrong. As bad as both of their mistakes were, as deep as the hurt was…the consequences felt so unjust, so wrong.

He looked back at the doorknob. Why was he continuing this cycle? He had gotten this far! Why was he letting all that lay to waste? He thought of her words before she left for work, her tears, the way her voice shook, the way the last thing she begged him for was to not make the job of daily survival any harder for her than it already was. He sighed. Maybe Bolton had been wrong. Maybe she wasn't fixing her mistake, not because she didn't know how, but because she didn't want to, because she couldn't. Maybe choosing what she needed in this new life of hers wasn't his decision to make…

"_I thought I told her to get rid of this boat." He felt himself growing infuriated again._

" _She did. She sold it to me, along with all her other crap. She made quite a killing, actually. I just couldn't stand the idea that you might - someday - regret giving this boat away." She felt she was right, he could see it in her face, and he couldn't believe it._

"_Even though I said I wanted it gone." He couldn't believe her. This was incredible. Did she not care for him at all?_

"_Yes, I know, but you were upset."_

"_Oh, I was cranky. Now I'm upset!"_

"_Sorry. I just thought –"_

"_You thought about you! You thought about you and how you'd feel! You didn't think about me, or the fact that I said I wanted to get rid of this damn boat! I mean, I said it, Lorelai. I said it, you heard it, and you ignored it!" He knew she was crazy. He knew she thought the world centered around her but this was too much. How dare she? How dare she mess with his memories of his father! This was one area that she had no right, no right at all to stick her two cents into. _

_She looked shocked, actually, as if she'd never really thought that someone else's wishes might truly, and rightly, contrast with what she thought should happen. "Because I didn't want you –"_

"_You had no respect for what I wanted! This was my dad! This was his __boat and this decision was mine! This was not yours!"_

He remembered that moment so vividly. He remembered his shock, his rage, his hurt that what he needed, what he wanted regarding such a very personal aspect of his life—indeed one where only he would have authority to say what was needed—would be so disregarded by her. Who was he to cause her that same hurt?

With one last glance around the room, Luke opened the door of the apartment and stepped out. He walked down the short hallway and pressed the down button next to the elevator. As he stood there waiting for it he tried to reassure himself that he was doing the right thing, that the crumbling he felt inside would go away with time, eased by the knowledge that he had put her first one last time.

_"Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same, Luke."_ Who had told him that? Bolton? That sounded like a Bolton mantra. But no, he didn't think so…Luke sucked in a breath—his father, he realized, his father had told him that. And damn it, he sure as hell wished his father were here now. Not a day had gone by since his father's death that Luke hadn't missed him, hadn't felt his absence. But now, after having somehow survived the hell the past two years had brought, after having come so close just to be broken into a million pieces again, after struggling so hard to do the right thing, trying so hard to see right from wrong, well, Luke knew he had never missed his father more than he did right at that very moment.

The doors to the elevator popped open with a ding and Luke stepped forward. Maybe it was all the thoughts of his father but as he stood there, one foot in the elevator and one foot out, something else occurred to him…

"_Hey," she said as she slipped outside the dance studio to where she had seen him waiting for her through the window._

_He kicked at the ground a bit, having trouble meeting her gaze. "See, there's a reason why I stay away from people on this particular day. It's 'cause I kind of suck."_

_Her voice was full of sympathy, regret as she responded, "Oh, Luke, I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have stayed out of it. You were right, I didn't think. I mean, I didn't think like you would think. I thought like I would think. And my thinking is sometimes very, very wrong if you're not me, and occasionally if you are me…"_

_She was rambling and he felt his anger, his stupidity, his own regret for yelling flow out of him. And just like that he was falling in love with her all over again. He was kissing her before he even realized what was happening. _

"_You just keep thinking like you'd think." It had taken him all day but he had finally realized just how much she loved him. She loved him because she didn't listen to him, didn't listen to ranting, yelling, 'stay the hell out of my way' him when anyone and everyone else would have. She did not what he wanted, but what he needed—something his father had always done for him, something with which his father had taught him, through actions, was what love was really all about._

With that, Luke retracted his foot and retraced his steps back down the hallway and through the apartment door he realized he'd never actually closed.

Once inside he sat down on the couch, behind the small coffee table, next to the picture of Rory and her books. Resting his elbows on his knees, he put his head in hands and tried to think of what the hell he was going to say to her when she walked through that door and saw that he had refused to comply with the only thing she'd asked.

He had no idea how long he'd sat there when he heard the doorknob begin to turn. It felt like a few moments and hundred hours all at once and Luke briefly wondered if he'd ever again be able to keep track of time with any sort accuracy.

She jumped slightly as she stepped through the doorway and caught sight of his figure in her normally empty apartment. Upon gathering herself he could see her jaw stiffen and her posture straighten. She shook her head in disbelief.

"I asked you for one thing…"

"Lorelai," he said trying to calm her, trying to keep himself calm as he rose to his feet behind the small wooden coffee table with glass paneling.

She cut him off shaking her head, clearly furious with him. "No! No!" she yelled. "You really don't care about me at all do you? Do you?" He opened his mouth but she answered for him, "Clearly you don't because if you did you would not be here! I asked you, no, I _begged_ you, to leave me and my shell of a life alone! Don't you think I've been though enough?" Her anger was starting to get the best of her. She threw the folders she had been carrying to the floor as her voice grew increasingly unsteady and tears began to well. "God Luke! A little peace! Just a little! God, I've been punished alright! I screwed up, I get it! Okay? I left, I did my part, now can't you just let me be!" Her tears began to stream her face and yet, Luke couldn't bring himself to feel sympathetic this time. He couldn't bring himself to walk out that door. All he felt was angry.

"What about me!" he heard himself yell. "What about _me_! You're suffering here? Well, poor baby!" He stepped out from behind the coffee table and stood within feet of her. He was losing control, losing it to anger, and he just couldn't muster up the will power to stop it. Emotions were flooding through him, pumping though his veins, he could feel the anger pulsating through his temples, the hurt and pain of the past two years rising like the blood to his face as he felt his cheeks begin to grow red. "_You_ left!" he reminded her. "You," he stabbed his finger in front of her face, "left _me_!" he finished by thumping himself in the chest with his thumb.

"Oh, what was I supposed to do Luke? Huh? Stay in the damn gossip hole of a town and let everyone talk about how I screwed up? About how I ended us—the 'us' they had on a pedestal like we were some sort of biblical figures? What was I supposed to do, stay and let you shut me out, give me the cold shoulder forever…"

"How do you know? How do you know I would have done that! You don't! You never gave me that chance! You ran, you got scared and you ran! As soon as things got hard you_ ran_!"

"And you honestly think you wouldn't have reacted that way? You and your pigheaded stubbornness? Honestly Luke! Wake up! You _hate_ Christopher! You have always hated Christopher! You would have never been able to be okay with what happened!"

"I don't have to be 'okay' with it to forgive it! I don't have to like him to forgive you! You never gave me that chance! You could have stayed and fought for us but you bailed!"

"No Luke, _you_ bailed!"

"I'm not the one who left!"

"Yes, Luke, yes you did!"

"I'm right…"

"No! No, don't say you're right where you've always been because you're not!"

"But you…"

"Yes, Luke, yes I left alright? I left Stars Hollow. But you left first Luke! You left long before that! And I stayed until I realized you were never coming back!"

"I never went anywhere!"

"No Luke, heaven forbid you leave that little diner of yours! You didn't leave Stars Hollow, Luke, you left _us_!"

"I…"

"You stopped being all in! Ever since April…"

"Don't bring April into this!"

"She is in this Luke! And I didn't bring her in, you did! And that could have been okay, it could have! She's a wonderful girl Luke—cute, brilliant, charming. I like her, I really do. But you hid her…"

"Not this again…we've been through this already! I was trying to protect you!"

"From a twelve year old? Really, Luke I think I proved I don't need protecting a long time ago…"

"Rory had just come back! You were finally _happy _again! I'm sorry if I couldn't stand being the one to take that away from you so soon!"

"And I understand that! I do! It was the wrong choice but I can accept that your heart was in the right place there! But then what did you do Luke, once I found out? You separated us! You led two lives and refused to let me into one of them! You can't do that and be all in! And you can't get married and not be all in!"

"I waited for you! I waited for you without ever complaining while Rory was gone! You don't think I wanted to be married then? Don't you think I spent time wondering when the hell, or even _if_, it was ever going to happen? But I waited for you! Because I knew you needed to be whole, before you could get married and you needed Rory back in order to be whole! You were missing a piece of yourself all that time, meaning you weren't all in then either, but I waited for you to get that piece back, to be all in again!"

"What happened with Rory was different! I did not hide my relationship with Rory from you! I did not insist on going to her 21st birthday alone! I did not give you certain times you couldn't come by the house…"

"You've had twenty plus years to figure out how to be a parent, how to deal with putting your kid first while dealing with other aspects of your life! I'd only had months! Months! We were getting married, we were getting ready to take all those damn promises to stand by each other no matter what, to wait for each other, to be there for each other no matter what happened! I figured, I just assumed, that I _had_ you! That I didn't have to work for your affection! I had just found my daughter!" he ripped at the cap on his head, waving his hands like they had a mind of their own as he fought to keep the emotion out of his voice. "You don't think I was scared of _losing_ her? You don't think I knew what a real chance there was that she would want nothing to do with a loner, dumb-ass, like me? I knew I had to work to keep her in my life—I wasn't aware that applied to you to!"

"See! See!" she yelled at him, tears coming harder now, streaming faster than she could wipe them away. "This is why I wanted you to leave Luke! This is why I left! This is why! I can't argue with you like this! I can't do it Luke!"

"Oh and this is fun for me?" he yelled incredulously.

"Stop!" she screamed through tears. "Just stop! I _loved _you Luke! In a way that I've never ever loved anyone before and I will never again! And you can believe that or not, it doesn't really matter because either way it's just as true! You were _it_ for me! You were it! And I can't stand here listening to you scream at how I didn't love you enough or love you the right way or how I got weak and ran, ran to Chris, ran away! I can't do it! I loved you the only way I could! The only way I knew how! I loved you with everything I had and in the end it just wasn't enough! Do you have any idea how long it has taken me to get over that to the point where I can get out of bed in the morning? To the point that I don't spend every waking moment wanting to die? I've finally gotten to the point that I can survive again but I will never, _ever_ stop hurting!" She grew softer as she began to shake with anger, shake with emotion. "I can't stop loving you Luke Danes, and I hate myself for it, everyday, every night, I hate how much I still love you! I hate you for it! I hate you Luke! Do you understand that? I _hate_ you because as much as it's _killing_ me I can't stop loving you!"

He stared at her, sobbing uncontrollably in the doorway, slightly taken aback by her confession. "Lorelai, what do you think these past two years have been like for me huh? Seriously what do you think? Do you really think I said, 'oh good she's gone, more time for bonding with April?' Lorelai, I spent a year turning the world upside down searching for you. I got a passport. Yes," he reaffirmed as her eyes widened slightly, "me, I got a passport. I went to Paris, London, Germany, to country's I've never even heard of searching for you. I've been over this country coast to coast. Me, Luke Danes, Mr. I'm-Never-Gonna-Leave-Stars-Hallow. Anna didn't let me see April that entire year, Lorelai. She called me crazed and obsessed, and you know what? I was. Any lead, any piece of information, I followed it to the ends of the earth and back again. I barely ate, I barely slept, I searched for you until I had nothing left. So I went back to Stars Hollow, I went back home, and I buried myself in that apartment. I really thought I would die there Lorelai. I didn't want to live without you. I _couldn't_ live without you. You were my life! You were my reason for living and you were gone. I spent months in that room, Lorelai. I never saw light, I barely ate, rarely showered, never shaved, I was a _mess_. Seven different times I wrote suicide notes. Seven different times I came very, very close. And then one day I got a call from a very terrified sounding little girl, my little girl, saying she missed me. Me, can you believe that? And then I thought about all those crazies we live with, all the psychos that should be put in straight jackets who kept my diner running, who kept leaving food outside my door, who kept waiting for me to come downstairs and out of my 'funk', all the people who weren't running. And you know what? My life still didn't have a point to it, not without you, and I still didn't want to live it, not without you, but I had to get dressed again, I had to go downstairs again, I had to continue to survive in this world again because there were people that needed me to." He broke eye contact with her and stared down at his shoes as he added, "and I thought one day you might come back." He looked back up at her. "But you were never coming back, were you?"

She stood there, shaking her head, her sobbing coming dangerously close to hysteria. "Don't…" she choked out. "Don't…d-do this…"

"Were you?" he repeated.

"Don't…just…g-get out! Get…out!" She began frantically trying to push him out the door, slapping at him, shoving him.

"You're running again! Just stop it! Stop trying to run away!"

"Get out Luke!" she cried desperately, mascara streaking her face, her voice hoarse and shaking. "Please!"

"Lorelai!" He grabbed her arms, forcing them still. "Stop! Stop trying to push me away!"

"Go!" she cried, and as her sobs grew greater her strength to fight against him shrunk exponentially.

Luke looked at the door and he looked back at her, sobbing hysterically in his grasp, and he realized he really had no idea what he should do. So, he did the only thing that came to mind—he kissed her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**A/N: **For now this is the last chapter of On From Here. I could go on forever but the story has to end somewhere. Thank you for all the reviews--I'm glad so many people liked it. Thanks for reading. :)

If this was a dream, Luke thought, it was the most real, most vivid dream he had ever had. He couldn't explain, could hardly even contemplate, what his body felt like at that moment. It was like someone had let open a floodgate inside of his body as a tidal wave of emotion swept through him from head to toe. He was kissing Lorelai Gilmore. After two years of thinking he would never lay eyes on her again he was kissing her. He was kissing the woman who had betrayed him. He was kissing the woman who had torn his heart apart so that it nearly killed him and when it didn't he could only wish it had. He was kissing the woman whose existence he had spent the past year trying to erase. And in that instant, Luke Danes knew he was kissing the only woman he would ever love.

He pulled back, ending the kiss after a few seconds since he knew a few seconds was as long as such an action would stun her into silence for. He stood there breathing deeply, her forearms still tightly in his grasp, his face inches from her. And he waited, waited for her to react. He wished, he prayed, that his touch, his kiss, had reminded her of all they had lost over these past two years, and of all they had had in the time before that as lovers, as friends, as—and Luke's heart stopped a moment as he realized he was actually going to put this term to use—as soul mates.

She seemed frozen in his arms, even her tears were stunned into stillness. And then she came alive. "No." She looked up at him. Her voice, although still not above a hoarse whisper, came out harsh. "You can't just do that, Luke. Not here, not now, not after what's happened. You don't get to just decide everything should be better…" Her breathing grew sharper and he could almost see her mind reeling. "When…when Rory was five…alright…when she was five she…she broke this glass elephant statue my aunt had given me. I…I don't even know why the hell I loved that damn thing, but I did and…ugh, so not the point... Anyway she was playing too close to the table, even though I had warned her not to, bumped into it, knocked it to the ground, and it shattered into about a thousand pieces. She felt horrible, she really, truly did. I knew that. She cried herself to sleep. But you know what Luke? No amount of tears could put that stupid little elephant back together. It laid in pieces in the trash that night, it was still in pieces in the trash the next morning, and to this day it's still in pieces…probably in some dumpster somewhere. It wasn't a fun lesson, but that was the day she learned that 'I'm sorry' can't fix everything." She looked at him pointedly and Luke knew she was talking about the kiss. He also refused to be dismissed that easily.

"Lorelai, I don't expect kissing you to fix everything. Hell, I don't expect it to _fix_ anything…"

"Then what the hell do you think you're doing Luke!" Her anger, her tears, and the volume in her voice were all back and Luke knew she had felt what he had—her emotion was too raw for her not to have.

"Trying to get you to let me back in so we can fix it…"

"Not when it's broken this badly. Luke I can't be with you again! I can't! Maybe…maybe I wanted to but I can't! I can't trust you again Luke! I've never let anyone in like I did you and you hurt me Luke, you really, really hurt me. I can't survive that again, and Rory needs me to survive. I can't watch you be here physically and emotionally be somewhere else completely. I just can't…" She was crying harder again.

"So what Lorelai, that's it? I get one shot? Lorelai I screwed up! I get it! I'm not denying that! I fucked up! Okay? Is that what you want to hear? That I'm an ass? That I'm a screw up? That I'm emotionally retarded? What? What do you want? Cuz I'll say it all, I'll shout it from the rooftop if you want me too, cuz it's true, it's all true! I know that alright, I know all that and I'm sorry Lorelai! I'm so fucking sorry that 'sorry' doesn't even apply here, this is so beyond anything 'sorry' can cover!" He let his anger defuse enough to look into her eyes, streaming tears, and speak sincerely, "I never, ever, ever meant to hurt you. I'm sorry. I wish I could go back and redo this whole April situation, handle it all differently but I can't. I can't change what happened…"

"That's just the point Luke—you can't, and I can't bare being with you knowing that the second things get tough, the second a twist is thrown our way you're going to shut down. I can't watch you stop loving me again…"

"Is that what you think happened?" Luke couldn't believe what he was hearing. He found himself gapping for breath like someone had just driven a semi-truck straight into his gut. "Lorelai, damn it, I messed up. Things in my life got complicated and I did what I've always done, I turned inward, depended on myself to figure out what the hell to do, I sectioned things off and tried to focus on one thing at a time. That's the way I've always been and it's what's always worked because I've only ever had me to think about. Lorelai, I took you foregranted, I neglected you…" he heard his voice trail off as he felt his face redden with shame but he forced himself to continue. "I did a lot I'm not proud of Lorelai but _damn it_, not once, not _ever_, during the whole time with April, the whole time we were dating, the whole eight years I've known you, not once have I_ ever_ stopped loving you."

At his confession, at the confirmation of what she had known deep down all along, Lorelai's tears became vocal sobs and Luke wanted to pull her into his chest, wrap his arms around her like he had so many times before. He forced himself to remain as he was though, supporting her weight with his grasp on her arms and keeping her face within inches of his.

"Luke, I just can't deal with…with the possibility of this happening again of…"

"Of what Lorelai?" he heard the anger creep back into his voice. "Of me screwing up again? Well guess what? I'm gonna!"

She looked up at him, her surprise evident.

"Damn it, Lorelai, I'm not perfect! I am so far from perfect I can't even tell you and when it comes to people and emotions and sharing my life with someone I'm a complete fuck up! You just got a first hand lesson with that. Why do you think I've lived like I have for so long huh? You were different though Lorelai, you were worth working for, worth me trying to make up for all my emotional shortcomings, worth me letting someone in when it was so much easier for me to shut down. But I'm not perfect! I can't do that one hundred percent of the time! Sometimes I think that's what you wanted, that's what you expected me to be…but I'm human Lorelai, I'm just a normal, average, everyday, blue collar, flesh and bones screw-up, and I think you forgot that!" He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and recognized that the screaming match his attempt at reconciliation had turned into wasn't helping his cause. But he also reveled in how good it had felt to tell her that, to get that out in the open. Underneath everything that had happened he felt that maybe that was what he had been most angry about. Was getting it off his chest worth losing everything for? Well, it was too late for that concern to matter, but it was important for him to have said it. For his sake as well as hers if they were able to give this relationship another go there had to be no disillusions, there had to be just, well, just them, Luke and Lorelai, two very imperfect human beings who just happened to, hopefully, love each other enough to make up for it.

Lorelai bit her bottom lip, tears welling again in her eyes but, for the moment, not overflowing any further. "Well, Luke, I'm not asking you to be perfect, but I need someone who's imperfection doesn't lead to them not being 'all in.'" He saw her bottom lip quivering even harder for all the biting she was doing as she added softly, "I can't bare watching you drift away, watching you leave me again…"

Luke almost chuckled as he heard himself reply, "Well of course I'd leave you Lorelai." She looked so startled Luke almost lost his grip on her arms the way she jerked back. "There is no such thing as forever Lorelai. People fall in love _knowing _that one day they will eventually leave each other. That's why it's so hard to let people in, to give a part of yourself to someone else, because you're putting all this energy, so much of yourself, into something that you already know won't, can't, last. Maybe we'd grow apart, break up—and God help me I don't intend for that to ever happen—but even if, hopefully when, we don't we're still going to leave each other." He recognized her confusion and clarified, "We're not going to live forever." She took in his words, teeth grinding down on that bottom lip again, and he knew they meant something to her A part of him briefly wished Mr. Bolton could hear him now because Luke was sure there was nothing that could make that crazy old man happier than hearing his favorite student reverberate his life lessons in such a passionate, heartfelt way.

Luke took a half step closer to Lorelai, her eyes now wide, watching his every move as if she no longer knew what to make of him. He saw in her eyes her internal conflict, the battle that raged. She wanted to believe him…but two years had created a lot of material to hold her back with. He pulled her in slightly closer to him, not quite touching, but close, close enough to feel each other's breath, to feel each other's uncertainty, each other's fear, each other's want in the warm air that grazed their cheeks. "What makes it worth it, what makes the lack of forever bearable, is all the time in between." He shook her just enough to get her to look at him, to see his eyes blaze as he continued, "A middle! A middle, Lorelai, I want our middle! I get it now! I get it and I want it, I don't want it to take forty years, I don't want to wait until I'm old to be with you—I want to be with you while I grow old! I want us Lorelai! I want _us_!"

She tried to back away from him, shaking her head again. "But even if you don't run Luke, even if you don't…I don't know if I…Christopher…I mean…Luke, as hurt as I was by you, as wrong as you were, I was hurt so much more by myself and what I felt I was driven to…I knew I had hurt you Luke. I knew I had hurt you in the worst way I could. And I have to live with that everyday. Forgiven or not, I still live with that. And Christopher…"

"Do you love him?" Luke broke in, asking her calmly, seriously.

"Wha…no, no! You know I don't but it's just…he's…he's always around…he's…"

"Where is he?" Luke looked around the apartment. "Is he here?"

"No, of course not."

"Has he been?"

"No!"

"Of all the places you could have run Lorelai, you never went there, you never went to him, why not?"

"Because…"

"How many times since that night have you spoken with him?"

"None…"

"Then forget Christopher, Lorelai. I have."

"But how…"

"Because he's not here, and you're not there, and all this time I knew you wouldn't be. As mad as I was, I knew. Christopher is you're past Lorelai and when you're future fell apart and you're present was in shambles you ran to what you knew, where you thought you were safe, you ran to Chris. But you don't love him and I know that. He's not here," Luke closed the distance between them even further, "I am. Let me back in Lorelai. Just let me in. I can't heal over night and neither can you, but let me back in your future, we can heal together, we can start again, we can have our middle."

"Luke I can't just hand over my future to you, the rest of my life to you…so much has happened…so much…"

"Okay," he breathed, still holding her gaze in his, "how about just your present then? For starters, just your present."

She looked at him intently and he could feel her breath shake against his skin. She remained like that for a few seconds, her expression unreadable, and Luke once again found himself unsure of what to do, what to say next. So he kissed her. Slowly, lightly, he kissed her. And this time she didn't move away.

Luke wasn't sure what she was thinking, what she was feeling, hell, he wasn't sure what _he_ was thinking. All he knew was that the longer his lips stayed on hers the more the rest of the world seemed to disintegrate into oblivion. The room, everything around them, was becoming no more than a swirl of misty haze, a kaleidoscope of shaded colors and distorted shapes. The longer the two of them remained, tied together in such a gesture, the further off and less important the future seemed. Tomorrow was quickly becoming light years away. And the past? Barely existent.

In a bold move he dared himself to open his eyes, to look at her, to see her, to try to gage if she was feeling half of what he was. As his eyelids fluttered open he almost stopped breathing at the sight of her skin so close to his, something so much more breathtaking than any dream could portray. Maybe she was thinking the same thing he was, maybe she had felt his intricate movements, whatever it was made her follow suit and soon the two bluest, deepest, truest eyes he had ever taken in were in front of him again, gazing back at him. It was then that he really did stop breathing. "Lorelai…" he gasped softly, slowly, and as her name rolled off of his tongue he let his voice trail off knowing there were no words that could appropriately follow such a word. He never had any intention of completing his sentence, of making a point, a statement. No, just her name, he just had to say her name, because right now it was the only word in the world that seemed to carry any weight, any feeling. It was the only word that made any sense.

"Luke…" she replied in the same gasping tone. Her voice shook as it filled the room with the sound of his name and when it did, a shot of electricity ran through him so strong he wasn't sure his heart would hold.

Unable to catch his breath he leaned his forehead lightly against hers and breathed, just breathed. She jumped a little at the contact but made no effort to move away. Taking a chance he let go of the grasp he had on her forearms, releasing them slowly and moving his hands up to brush the hair back from her face, his fingers brushing across her cheeks. And when the brown strands were once again tucked safely behind her ears he couldn't quite bare releasing her and succumbed to cupping her face in his hands, her cheeks, wet with sweat and tears from the evening's emotional roller coaster, were covered with his palms.

Then, for the first time in two years, Lorelai reached for him, reached with a touch that's intent was not to push him away. Although it wasn't meant to draw him nearer either, it was at the very least meant to keep him still—keep him still near her. Slowly, tentatively, she moved her hands to his chest, placing them lightly at first before then running them over the soft flannel she had once known so well. And then, finally, it all became too much and she fell into his chest, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and beginning to sob, sob uncontrollably. Only now she wasn't sobbing alone, she wasn't suffering in her own world, she was clinging to him now, holding the back of his shirt in fistfuls. Though his heart broke to hear her sob, he couldn't help lifting his head up, breathing a deep, incredulous, thankful breath because she was finally sobbing in a world he could hold her in, in a world he recognized—she had entered _their_ world again.

He stepped forward closing any gap between their bodies and wrapped her tightly in his embrace, causing her only to cry harder. And he wanted to tell her it would be okay and he wanted to tell her not to cry and he wanted to tell her this so many things, but he couldn't. He couldn't because he didn't know, couldn't know, what was going to happen after this. He didn't know what was coming next, if it would all be okay. But he knew what he had in front of him, right now. He had her. He had asked her to let him back into her present and she had. And a present with Lorelai Gilmore was all he had ever really wanted.

She looked up at him and reached her hands up to grasp his face, tracing his features with her fingers, running her hands through his hair. "You're real," she sobbed, "you're actually real…God, Luke, so many times…so many times I actually thought I might have just dreamt you, dreamt it all…"

"Lorelai…" he started but stopped as she saw her shaking her head, wanting to go on, having more to say.

"…but now," she choked through streaming tears, "I…I just…I love you Luke Danes…I love you and that…that's the most real thing I've ever known." And with that she fell back into his chest again, one had clinging to his flannel like a lifeline, one tangled in the ends of his hair.

And then it happened. He had been fighting it all night but at the sound of her words, the feel of her touch, the reality of it all, something inside of him snapped and he lost his internal battle. He could no longer help it. He cried. Steady, should-shaking tears—silent, but present nonetheless. He cried for the second time since she'd left him. He cried for the second time since his father died. And he knew for a fact he had never cried more truly emotion filled tears in his life.

She looked up at him, her shock at his reaction evident. And it was then that she kissed him. Placed both of her hands on his cheeks, pulling his broad shoulders down just slightly, and kissed him.

He lost the ability to both stand and hold her at that and, having to give one up he of course choose the former, sinking them both to the floor. He let his back rest against the gray paint, his legs out straight in front of him, Lorelai Gilmore sitting in between them, wrapped in his arms, her lips still on his.

When she finally broke away, just an inch or so away, he breathed shakily, "I love you too…I—I love you…"

And she looked up at him with those big blue eyes and said, "I know." And Luke wished he could die right then and there because he honestly did not think there could be anything else in life that could make him feel half as elated as he was at that very moment in time.

They stayed like that, crying into each other's embrace, basking in the surrealness of the moment, the weightlessness that comes with finally receiving all you have ever wanted. Just her present, that was all he had asked for, and, as he looked down at the woman that had fallen asleep in his arms, he knew that was all he needed to go on. So long as he had her present, he could build them a future.

His left hand was entwined with hers and he was touched by the fact that she was so moved, so emotional, so in love with the knowledge that after two years she could finally touch him, really touch him, again that she was actually shaking, even in her sleep. It wasn't until he looked down that he realized it was his hand that shook. And he briefly felt embarrassed, just as he had briefly felt embarrassed when he had begun to cry, but, just as before, all such feeling went away the second he gazed down into the face of the woman he was opening his heart up for.

And so he held her, just held her tightly in his arms, like if he were to loosen his grip in the slightest she might slip away in his sleep, leaving him to wake up and find it was all a dream. He kissed the top of her head lightly, breathing in the smell of her shampoo—some odd combination of fruit that he was sure came in some sort neon bottle—a smell he thought he might never take in again. He swallowed hard as he leaned his head back against the wall. To him, it smelled like life, like being alive and here he was pressing her body, her brown curls, to his chest, to his heart, the aroma of 'alive' surrounding him inescapably as he drifted into his first real sleep in years.

He awoke before her in the morning, as he always had, and watched her sleeping peacefully, as he had always hoped he'd do again. And he couldn't help but smile at the situation. If anyone had told Luke Danes that he would hold Lorelai Gilmore again he wouldn't had believed them. If anyone had told him he would have found reason to live, really truly live, again he wouldn't have believed that either. But most especially, if anyone had told him that the night he finally got her back in his life would be spent with them both fully clothed, with him leaning up against a studio apartment wall in Brooklyn, watching her sleep soundly in his arms, he might have actually found that amusing. But that's the way it was. That's the way it happened. And as he looked down at her, brushing strands of hair from her face, he knew this was better than anything he had dreamed.

She awoke soon after, sharing his smile immediately upon seeing his face above hers, seeing he was so much more than just something she'd imagined. And in that, the breaking of the 'tomorrow' that had quickly become their next 'today,' they held each other close, each trying to figure out where to go with this new 'present' the dawn had brought, each trying to figure out what would become of them. There was so much unknown, so much still unspoken, so much that would have to be rebuilt. It was something each questioned whether they could undertake, knowing full well the consequences that awaited them if something should again go astray.

Luke knew what the answer should be. There was only one thing that made sense. What human would want to put themselves through such horrible, mind numbing pain again? It would be a suicide mission really, he thought, to attempt their relationship again, to make himself so vulnerable again, to love her so deeply again. He had to do what made sense.

She reached up and stroked his face with her palm, bringing him out of his thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"

He looked down into those blue eyes that never failed to reach straight into his very soul and knew he could never lie to her. He shook his head, "I was just thinking about all the reasons why two plus two can equal five."

She looked at him with one eyebrow arched and couldn't help but laugh when she realized his response was a serious one. "Luke," she giggled, "you're not making any sense, I'm supposed to be the one that talks crazy remember…"

Putting his fingers over her lips he silenced her as he smiled, "No, for the first time in a very long time I finally_ am_ making sense." He bent down and laid a kiss on her forehead. "You Lorelai Gilmore are the only thing that makes sense for me."

He could see by the way her eyes twinkled that she still thought he was talking crazy, but he could also see her start to understand—if not his words, his meaning at least—his very significant meaning.

He then saw the reservations that still hung in both their minds pass through her eyes as she asked again, almost uncertainly, "So what now?"

In truth he didn't know exactly, but he smiled through his shrug as he held her beautiful gaze and told her, "Well, we just go on," he paused as he kissed her lightly and added, "together," stopping again as she reached up to return the gesture before finishing, "on from here."


End file.
